Arrangements
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Hermione and Draco deal with the aftermath of war. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

New story! I own nothing!

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Chapter 1

It was difficult to take a deep breath. With the labored rise and fall of her chest, Hermione Granger played back the events from just moments ago. Along with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, they searched the Room of Hidden Things for one of the final horcruxes that would help to bring about the demise of Lord Voldemort, the scourge of the wizarding world. It was soon after Harry spotted Ravenclaw's diadem when Draco Malfoy and his goons decided to launch their own attack on the Golden Trio.

It was an ill-cast Fiendfyre curse performed by Crabbe that had them fleeing the Room of Requirement for the sweet, clean oxygen the hallway provided. Slowly, as her breathing regained a normal speed, Hermione opened her eyes to survey the damage. The wall in front of her was charred black from the smoke and fire, and part of her wondered if the magically hidden room would ever appear again. To her left, Harry and Ron were slumped against a wall struggling to catch their breath. A murderous look crossed Ron's face, his skin color matching that of his fiery red hair. Hermione turned to her right to see what Ron glared at, and saw Draco Malfoy slumped over the lifeless body of his friend, Crabbe.

With a short glance back to her friends, Hermione stood slowly on shaking legs and moved closer to Malfoy. She listened as he sobbed softly, not bothering to look at anyone but his friend. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Hermione bent down beside him. "Draco?" she said quietly.

The blonde turned his head to the witch beside him. The sneer he had worn for seven years was gone. Dark circles formed underneath his pale, bloodshot gray eyes. Sweat beaded on his brow, causing locks of hair to stick to his alabaster skin. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Though whether the apology was for her or his deceased friend, Hermione wasn't sure.

"We have to get out of here," Hermione said, keeping her hand on his back. Draco had yet to shrug away from her touch or insult her for deigning to run her mudblood hands over his skin. He shook his head, clutching Crabbe's robes tighter in his hands. "We have to before we get attacked again. We'll come back for him. I promise."

"Hermione, someone's coming," Ron hissed, pressing himself against the wall so he would be out of sight. She looked back at her friend and nodded. Hurried footsteps approached their quiet corner, and when Hermione looked back at Draco he had resumed his mourning position.

"Draco, please," she whispered, taking hold his shoulders to force him to face her. "We have to go."

Tiredly, Draco shook his head. "They're Death Eaters, they won't kill me. And if they do, I deserve it. You and your friends should get out of here. Good luck, Granger."

"Yeah, you too." With one final worried glance back at the suffering boy, Hermione and her friends took off in the opposite direction. A small alcove provided temporary protection as the trio fought to catch their breath. They listened quietly for any approaching fighters, but silence loomed.

It was Ron's harsh whisper that was heard in the quiet. "What the bloody hell was that all about, Hermione?" Feigning innocence, she quietly asked to what he was referring. Ron's face darkened as he stared down his best friend. "Malfoy nearly got us all killed, and you decide to comfort him?"

"_Crabbe _almost got us killed," Hermione corrected him.

"Malfoy wasn't exactly an innocent party in the attack," Harry pointed out.

Hermione sighed. "He just lost his best friend. I would hope someone would comfort me at a time like that, even if it is the enemy." She didn't afford either of the boys the chance to reply before slipping out of their hiding place. They separated as Harry exited the castle, making his way to the Forbidden Forest at Voldemort's request. The fighting had ceased, at least for the time being.

The Great Hall, the once loud, jovial space, was now set up with a triage center and more bodies lined up in rows that anyone would have cared for. Friends and loved ones were mourned, the wounded were treated, and Hermione waited with bated breath to learn the fate of her best friend.

"Harry Potter is dead," came the great snake-like hiss of the Dark Lord. A great swarm of people fled the Great Hall, pushing past one another to be the first one to catch a glimpse of the Boy Who Hadn't Lived. Hermione stood numbly by the large wooden doors, fearful that the declaration was true. A hand grazing her arm jolted her from her frozen state.

"Go, Granger."

She turned her head slightly around and caught Malfoy smiling sadly at her.

"It'll be fine. Go," he assured her, giving her a small nudge forward. With a nod she started toward the front steps of the magnificent castle. Another hand, a different one, pulled her towards the front of the crowd. There before them all stood Hagrid, his giant form towering over the proud Death Eaters around him. In his arms lay a lifeless Harry Potter. It never registered in her mind who held her, but Hermione sought the comfort of those arms as she cried for the loss of her best friend.

A gasp rose up a minute later. "Mione, look," she heard Neville Longbottom say as he tugged on her dirty and torn shirt sleeve. She slowly lifted her weary head, seeing that she was held by Ron for the first time, and then looked in the direction in which Neville pointed.

Harry was gone.

Disappeared.

A swell of hope arose in Hermione's heart; Harry might still be alive. Minutes later the battle began again with renewed vigor. The fighting was fierce and brutal. All around, both the good and bad fell as they were struck by curses. Then the shouting stopped and all was quiet. Every pair of eyes focused on the two sole figures in the middle of the battle. Harry Potter and Voldemort stood with wands raised, pointed at one another. Flashes of brilliant light erupted from each man's wand as they each shouted a curse.

Voldemort fell.

Harry sunk to the stone flooring, exhausted and relieved that the battle had finally ended. Classmates, teachers, friends, and loved ones cheered and congratulated Harry as he sat in a daze, hearing little of what was said. Soon after the celebratory mood faded, a somber one took its place as the wounded were tended to and the deceased laid out for identification. As the Weasleys stood beside a wounded Fred, Hermione took the opportunity to slip out for fresh air. She kept her sights trained straight ahead as there were only so many fallen comrades she could bear to face.

The front doors of the Hogwarts castle were open, allowing a light breeze to pass through the entryway. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, breathing in the air. Her feet carried her down the steps, along the front walk, and directed her towards the Black Lake. The lights from the castle never reached as far as the lake, and Hermione wandered in blackness until she could see the lapping waves of the water. She sunk down beside a large tree and closed her eyes. In the silence, Hermione could hear the rustling and crunching of grass underfoot.

Without opening her eyes, Hermione said, "Hi, Draco."

The blonde chuckled quietly as he sat down beside her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, shifting closer.

"Trying to forget," Hermione replied, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Although, I'm not sure that will ever be possible."

Draco nodded in agreement. At such a young age, they had already seen too many horrors; too much death and destruction to ever lead normal lives again.

"What's going to happen now?" he wondered, staring out into the night. When he felt the vacancy of the head that previously rested on his shoulder, he looked down. "I mean, not just with us. I wonder what's going to happen to our world, my parents, my friends, your friends."

"I don't know," she whispered. Standing, Hermione moved closer to the water's edge. It was a welcome distraction watching the movement of the tide. She didn't want to think at the moment. It hurt too much and wore her out. Turning back, Hermione looked at Draco still seated beneath the oak tree. His head fell forward as blonde hair draped across his forehead, obscuring his face from view. His long arms rested on his bent knees.

Hermione moved back and knelt in front of him, resting a hand on his right forearm. It was with that one little touch that Draco looked up. His left hand moved to cover the hand that held his arm. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," she assured him.

Draco shook his head and pulled away. "I could. I was a Death Eater. That could earn me a very long stay in Azkaban. It took us long enough to stop hating each other, and it could all be over tomorrow."

Hermione thought back to the day in their sixth year when everything changed between them. She had been in the library late at night. Sleep deprivation was starting to sink in as she poured over her books and wrote her essays. She thought the strange noises coming from the stacks were just her imagination until she wandered over to find Draco Malfoy broken down. When he looked up, terror ghosted past his aristocratic features. Not once did he call her a mudblood or tell her to sod off. His tears dried and sobs turned to hiccups, and the whole time they sat there she talked. She told him about her classes, even the ones he had with her. She complained about Harry's new found proclivity for potions. She even let it slip that Cormac McClaggen's flirting tactics terrified her.

He never spoke of the task he'd been given by the Dark Lord. Hermione wasn't the type to accuse him of joining the dark side, and that assuaged his nerves. He was willing to listen to whatever drivel she spouted off. They met in the library every night for weeks after that first time. Most nights they did their schoolwork together, comparing answers and sharing class notes. Some nights they talked, and even once she coaxed a smile out of the Slytherin.

During the year she spent on the run, Hermione missed those late night sessions. Often she thought about him as sleep claimed her tired mind. She wondered how Draco fared living under the same roof with Voldemort. She wondered if he was safe, if he'd been forced to commit the unspeakable acts she knew he didn't want to commit. Often she wondered if they would ever see each other again.

When they did meet again, after she, Harry, and Ron were captured by snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor, Hermione had momentarily breathed a sigh of relief that Draco was fine. His gray eyes were filled with worry and pleaded with her to keep quiet. He refused to identify them as the Golden Trio. They were separated after that. Harry and Ron were led to the dungeons beneath the grand mansion, and Hermione remained with the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange trained on her shaking form. She was interrogated and tortured, but refused to break. In one of the rare moments of lucidity, their eyes connected. Steely gray eyes watered before Draco could no longer bear to watch. Minutes later she was gone from that terrible scene and awoke at Shell Cottage.

It wasn't until the meeting in the Room of Requirement that Hermione saw Draco again. He was thinner, looked more tired than the last time they had met, and a frightened look was etched into his fine facial features. It took all her will to hate the scared boy in front of her as he sneered and sent curses flying at her friends.

"What are you thinking about?"

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the whispered question. Looking up she smiled softly and shook her head. "It's nothing," she replied. Silence lapsed as the pair stared out at the lake. Draco moved back to lean against the tree, and pulled Hermione closer to his side. His arm wound around her shoulders before he looked down at her. Her eyes closed as she inhaled the night air and leaned into him. Draco felt the unfamiliar twitch of a smile on his lips. The smile fell as Hermione pulled away. "We should go back. Someone's bound to miss us."

She stood, brushing grass and dirt from her already ruined jeans. Draco followed, and reached out a hand to stop her. "Wait, just before we go back," he started, moving closer to her. His free hand brushed her cheek, tracing over a cut that marred her soft skin. She looked up hesitantly, nervous about what he may do. Closing his eyes, Draco lowered his head until he felt his lips brush gently over her own. The kiss was soft and sweet, it didn't last long at all. "Just in case I never get the chance to do that in the future," he added, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"Everything will work out for the best," she assured him. Slowly, they pulled away, and Draco allowed Hermione a two minute head start. He watched as she ascended the stairs, and knew that things would never be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The door to his bedroom had remained locked since Draco and his mother returned to Malfoy Manor. For the second time in two years, his father was in Azkaban, awaiting trial for his deeds as a Death Eater. Draco shook his head, dislodging a few strands of platinum colored hair from its smoothed back position.

Two sheaves of parchment sat on the desk, though Draco could not bring himself to look at one. The other was a letter he had carefully spent drafting for three days. The recipient was to be Hermione, if he could ever work up the courage to send it. The second was a letter from Astoria Greengrass. He knew the day would come when the details of the arranged marriage between him and Astoria would come out.

His eyes moved back to his letter to Hermione. Their kiss replayed in his mind. The touch of her soft, hesitant lips, the way she sighed when it was over, the feeling of holding her so tightly in his arms. That was what Draco wanted. He wanted Hermione Granger, not Astoria Greengrass. Picking up a quill, he pulled the letter to him once more. Below his signature he added a post script, "Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron tonight at 7." A shaky hand attached the letter to his owl's leg and he watched the bird fly away.

A knock on the door startled Draco from his nervous pacing. His feet ceased their movement as the knock again came. With a flourish of his wand, the door opened to reveal his mother. She didn't wait for permission to enter, and moved through the room with a grimace at the mess that accumulated in small piles on the floor. Seated on the edge of his bed, Narcissa Malfoy, back straight and head held high, spoke.

"Astoria and her parents are coming to dinner tomorrow night to discuss the terms of your engagement."

Draco scoffed. "You mean forced union."

Blue eyes narrowed on the young man. "This is your duty as the head of the Malfoy family," Narcissa informed him. "The Greengrass family is well respected, and a little bit of positive press will do our family well in light of recent events."

"It was a war, Mother," Draco spat, clenching and unclenching his fists, "not a business deal gone wrong. I will not be forced to marry a girl I don't love."

Narcissa rose to her full height, standing just a head shorter than her son. "Your father and I had an arranged marriage. They're not ideal, but in time we learned to love one another. I'm sure you will be able to do the same."

With her final words, Narcissa kissed Draco's cheek and left the room. It wasn't until she reached for the doorknob to close the door that Draco spoke.

"Did you really love him?" His tone was no longer harsh and cold, but soft and slightly fearful. Narcissa stopped and reentered the room. "After all of the horrible things he did. Cavorting with the Dark Lord, practicing dark magic, the prison sentences. Have you been able to put that aside after all of these years, and still say you love him?"

Briefly, a frown tugged down the edge's of his mother's mouth, but just as quickly as the look had appeared it was gone. "Yes," she replied, with little feeling before shutting the door.

Draco sighed and sunk down onto the bed. His eyes closed as he fell back. There was no way he could go through with marriage, given his new found feelings for Hermione. The tap of a beak against window glass pulled the young wizard from his thoughts moments later. Slowly, he rose and opened the window to allow the bird access. With unsteady hands, Draco removed the letter and opened it. The soft, neat scrawl brought a smile to Draco's face as he read her note.

Hermione would meet him.

Hours later, Draco paced in front of the Leaky Cauldron awaiting Hermione's arrival. It was fifteen minutes before their meeting time, but nerves had gotten the better of him. He could no longer sit around the house waiting for the time to pass. On the fourth pass in front of the door he saw Hermione run toward him, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, coming to a stop in front of him. Her breathing came fast, but quickly she was able to get it under control.

Draco smiled. "You're ten minutes early," he told her, pulling the small brunette into a hug. "Gods, I missed you."

"It's only been a week," she replied with a tinkling laugh.

"A very long week," he bemoaned. They remained in their embrace, neither party willing to let go.

Hermione was the first to let her grip slacken. "We should go inside," she murmured as she attempted to step out of his arms. Draco, in return, tightened his arms momentarily before letting go. They stepped into the semi-lit, dusky tavern. All around witches and wizards talked gregariously, laughing loudly as the liquor flowed. Instinctively, Draco reached back to secure Hermione's hand as they made their way to a booth in the back. They slipped in, keeping close to one another.

"I'm glad you came," Draco said once their orders had been taken.

An incredulous smile appeared on Hermione's face. "Why wouldn't I come?" she asked, placing a hand on top of the one Draco rested on the table.

His thin shoulders shrugged as he looked down at their hands. "I don't know," he mumbled. Her hand tightened around his. At that moment, Draco considered telling her about the arrangement with Astoria Greengrass. Until he looked up and saw the worried look in her brown eyes. Instead of speaking, he leaned in and brushed his lips against the soft, glossy lips next to him. It wasn't long before he felt the caress of Hermione's tongue against his own. It was a heady feeling to kiss Hermione Granger in the middle of a crowded restaurant and not have a care in the world.

When they pulled away, Hermione gave his hand a small squeeze. "I'm glad we got to do that again," she murmured as her cheeks filled with color.

"Me too," Draco replied.

They spent the evening talking and eating, drinking and sneaking kisses. There was no talk of the war or past misdeeds. By the time they made their way back into Diagon Alley, the shops were closed and there was not a soul in sight.

"I should really get home," Hermione sighed, glancing down at their joined hands. Since the war ended, she had been living at the Weasley family home, and the situation wasn't entire ideal. They had stopped walking, and Hermione leaned against the side of the closest building, resting her head against the brick. An audible sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes, Draco had stepped closer to rest his hands on her waist.

"You don't seem too thrilled by the idea of going home," he observed, a hint of hope in his voice.

After the small kiss she had shared with Ron before the battle had begun, his attentions toward her had become greater. She had nary a free moment at the Burrow, whether it was Ron or Ginny or Harry pulling her from the solitude she so desperately sought.

"Hermione?"

Her head snapped back to look at Draco. She could feel her cheeks heat with embarrassment at having been caught in her thoughts.

"I don't know," Hermione replied with a shrug. "The Weasleys have become a second family to me. I feel obligated to stay there until I find my parents. Mrs. Weasley would never allow any of us to be on our own now."

Draco lowered his gaze to the ground. "Let's get a room here tonight," he offered quietly. He peeked briefly to see her expression. The witch chewed her bottom lip anxiously. "I promise to be a gentleman. I'll even sleep on the floor if you want me to."

Laughter returned to her tongue. "I'd agree just to see Draco Malfoy sleep on a floor," Hermione replied, the worried expression now gone from her fine features. She reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers as they made their way back into the Leaky Cauldron to ask for a room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Malfoy Manor was quiet when Draco returned home the next morning. His robes were wrinkled from having been discarded haphazardly the night before. A smile spread on his lips as the image of waking up beside a peacefully sleeping Hermione Granger floated through his mind. It was well into the early morning that the pair sat up talking and laughing before sleep claimed Hermione first, and then Draco. Tiredness stung his eyes after only a few short hours of sleep, but his mood was uplifted by the promise that they would see each other soon enough.

"And where have you been?"

Draco looked up to see his stern-faced mother standing at the top of the winding staircase with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Out," the young blonde replied with a wry smile on his face.

"With whom?" Narcissa inquired, not shifting her stance in the slightest as her son neared.

"Hermione Granger," he responded knowing it would raise his mother's ire. An angry scowl creased the older woman's face, which only caused Draco's smirk to widen. "I'm quite taken by her, Mother," he added as he moved to pass her.

Narcissa reached out an arm to stop him. "The Greengrasses will be here soon. You will marry their daughter, and there will be no more contact with this Granger girl. She is not a Pureblood, and you will only sully this family's reputation if you continue to see her."

Draco scoffed loudly. "Yes, it will be my actions that taint the Malfoy name. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to lie down for a bit before company arrives." He twisted his arm out of his mother's grasp and continued on to his bedroom.

The bed shook as a small house elf attempted to awake Draco two hours later. The blonde rubbed sleep from his eyes before snidely dismissing the terrified servant. Slowly, he dressed and readied himself for the guests who would arrive in mere minutes. The same frightened house elf appeared to alert him to their arrival. He took his time making his way from his bedroom down to the dining room where he knew the two families were gathered. Entering the grand room, Draco bestowed a curt nod to the heads of the Greengrass family before taking a seat opposite Astoria.

Narcissa, seated at the head of the table, glared at her young son. The first course was served to a quiet table. Her eyes remained trained on Draco, who smirked into his salad. It wasn't until Mr. Greengrass cleared his throat that she looked away from him.

"We'd like to establish a timeline for this courtship," he declared. Draco's fork clattered to his plate as he stared at the Greengrass patriarch. Mr. Greengrass ignored the interruption, and continued. "I'd like to see my daughter married in a year's time. She'll be 17 by this time next year. Is this agreeable?"

Narcissa nodded as Draco pushed his chair back hard enough to scrape the floor. "I will not marry by the end of this year," he emphatically stated, his voice growing harsh with anger as each word passed his lips. He turned to Astoria to apologize quickly before turning back to her parents. "You can't force a couple of kids to marry. I don't give a damn about your Pureblood, arranged marriage concept. If and when I decide to marry, it will be to the woman of my choosing."

Draco was in the foyer before anyone could speak again. He moved faster up the winding staircase as the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor neared.

"Draco, stop."

He turned quickly on his heel, bracing himself against the railing. Behind him, at the foot of the stairs stood Astoria Greengrass. She was a rather beautiful girl, he observed. Long blonde hair cascaded in loose curls down her back, and green eyes sparkled in the early day light. Her right hand rested on the banister as the other wound around her back, pulling on the end of a curl.

"What?" he asked angrily.

The girl huffed at the discontented mood of her now future husband. "Look, I'm no happier about this situation than you are, but the least you could do is hear our parents out. This is a good match, you and me. Let's just make the best of it."

A dark chuckle passed Draco lips as he descended the stairs, closing the gap between them. "This," he pointed between them, "is not a good match. This is not a good situation. I will not make the best of this. I have a life. I love someone who isn't you. I will never love you. Understood?" Astoria's eyes widened fearfully, but she nodded her head. "Good. Now, if my mother asks, I've gone out." Turning on his heel, he moved back up the stairs to his room.

The door to his room slammed and with a wave of his wand, several charms were placed to keep intruders out. Draco growled deep in his throat as his hands dug into his hair. Visions of Hermione floated through his mind, and he knew where he needed to go. Focusing his energy, Draco continued to picture her until the familiar tug of Apparition transported him to the countryside of Ottery St. Catchpole.

Draco looked up at the haphazard house, fearful that one of the many stories would tumble to the ground. He froze, knowing he was one of the last people the Weasley family would want to see. Instead, he produced a Patronus to carry a message to the only person he wanted to meet. And then he waited.

It was fifteen minutes later that he spotted the flying brown curls as Hermione ran towards him. A smile lit her face as she neared, and Draco could feel an identical grin grow on his lips.

"I didn't think I'd see you today," she replied with a laugh as her arms wrapped around his neck. Hermione pulled her head back just enough to allow their lips to connect. When she pulled away, the smile remained on her face.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Draco asked, tightening his arms around her slim waist.

"I never should have taught you how to produce a Patronus," she replied, giggling. "The ferret is a bit obvious." Draco began to laugh along with her, but his petered out before hers. A small frown and a crease between her brows marred her features. "What's wrong?"

His arms loosened around her and he shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing," he said, plastering on a smile before he kissed her again. "I missed you," he added when the worried look didn't leave her face. She nodded her head, but they both knew Hermione didn't believe his answer.

"So, you'll never guess what excuse I gave Mrs. Weasley for not coming home last night," Hermione said, pulling out of his arms. Draco frowned at the loss of contact, but her hand quickly slipped into his as she began to walk. A blonde eyebrow piqued, wanting to know what she had told the maternal witch. "I told her I went to a library, and I accidentally fell asleep there. Ronald sat there at the breakfast table with his mouth full, eggs practically falling back onto his plate, when I walked in. It was somewhat...invigorating staying out all night."

"And with the enemy no less," Draco muttered, keeping his eyes trained on the path ahead. Hermione stopped short, and Draco turned back when his arm jerked behind him. "I know, I know, I'm not the enemy. To you."

Hermione sighed. "The others will come around too," she replied. "They'll just need time."

"Maybe you should tell them that we've been seeing each other," Draco suggested, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. Hermione didn't look so sure. "The longer you keep this from them, the madder they'll get."

Hermione's head lowered, her eyes focused on their joined hands. "I worry about what Harry and Ron will think or say or do. There's just so much on my mind - school, family, what I'm going to do with my life. And I can't live here with all the noise and interruptions. This place is going to drive me crazy. I'm not sure I've got the brain capacity to add any more worries."

With a tug to the arm, Hermione was in Draco's warm embrace once more. "There's something I've been thinking about," Draco started, resting his chin atop her head. "My family owns a few homes that haven't been seized by the Ministry yet. I've been wanting to move out of the Manor for a long time, and I think one of our other houses would be perfect. There's one on a cliff top in Ireland. It's small, two stories, three bedrooms. It's not nearly as dark as the Manor. It seems like a good place to start over. More recently, I've been thinking that perhaps you might want to live there too."

Her head pulled out from underneath his touch. "Draco, I can't."

"You're an adult, both in the eyes of the wizarding world and the English government," Draco argued, feeling his heart beat faster. "If you want to leave this place, then do it. Just put your guilt or whatever it is aside, and do what you want to do. And if you don't want to move in there with me, at least consider it a safe haven for when your thoughts get too loud. Say you'll think about it at least."

"I promise to think about it," she replied softly. Draco smiled and kissed her softly. "Can we go see it now?"

He nodded his head. "Hold on tight."


	4. Chapter 4

So, I had the strangest dream last night that James and Lily Potter adopted me (even though I'm 24) and I tried to convince them that in order to defeat Voldemort they should use a Patronus charm. Then I woke up and spent a good 20 minutes trying to decide if that would really work. Thoughts?

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Chapter 4

The master bedroom was dark with only a small sliver of moonlight peeking through the drapes. Draco leaned up on his elbow to watch the sleeping witch by his side. Brown curls fanned out around her head; one curl fell gingerly across her closed eyes. Draco watched the rise and fall of her chest, covered by his button down dress shirt. His hand reached out tentatively to brush back the curl before he lay back down, his face mere inches from her own. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come.

Soft lips caressed his, and his gray eyes shot open. A smile graced Hermione's face as her brown eyes came into focus in the dark. "What are you thinking about?" she whispered as her hand traced lazy circles on his bare skin.

Draco captured her lips once more. He moved so that his body half covered her smaller frame, and the kiss deepened. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as his left hand slid up the hem on the shirt. As he had watched her sleep, he pondered how to tell her about the Greengrass arrangement. Perhaps, being the brightest witch of their age, Hermione would be able to help him get out of it.

"I have to tell you something," he said, inhaling a deep breath. He moved away, sitting beside her cross-legged. Hermione, too, sat up, a look of concern on her face. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied happily, caressing his cheek. "We should get some sleep. Probably should get back home early."

He nodded, pushing the fringe out of his eyes. A part of him wished he possessed her Gryffindor courage. He hated himself for not telling her about the "engagement." There was no way out of it if she didn't know. Then again, if she did, Hermione surely would end things between them. A strong set of morals would prevent her from continuing a relationship with a man about to marry another woman. He didn't want Hermione Granger as a mistress. He wanted to marry _her_.

The next time his eyes opened, sunlight poured mercilessly into the room. Draco rolled over to bury his face in the soft pillow as he arm snaked out for Hermione. But the sheets on her side of the bed were cold, and he immediately sat up. His head whipped around wildly for any sign of the brunette.

"Morning. I made breakfast," he heard her say as she entered the grand bedroom. His features were wild; eyes wide and blonde hair askew. The silver serving tray clattered onto the wooden top of the dresser as Hermione rushed over to the bed. The mattress dipped from the addition of her weight. Soon his arms were pulling her ever closer, lips touching lips, as Draco lowered her down into a reclined position.

"I thought you left me," he murmured against her lips before attacking them as hungrily as ever.

"Never," she replied breathily as she was overwhelmed by the feel of his hands on her bare stomach and lips on her neck. The buttons on her shirt slowly began to open, one by one, revealing the creamy white skin beneath. Her hand reached to halt his movements as he made his way higher and higher. "Draco, stop. We can't do this right now."

Draco's eyes darkened from a soft, dusky gray to hard, cold steel. "Why not?" he asked, trying to keep his lust in check.

"Because we need to go home," she replied, ever the sensible one. "Well, at least, I do."

Draco pulled away, closing her shirt over her chest. He removed himself from the bed and from the temptation offered by the young witch. "I'm sorry," he muttered before disappearing into the master bathroom.

Dumbfounded, Hermione watched him walk away. She watched as the bathroom door swung closed. She couldn't will her legs to swing over the side of the bed, to go after him. The love she felt for him was unlike any emotion she had ever felt before. She needed to know what it was that had him so upset, but she feared the return of the old Draco Malfoy. And so she remained still on her side of the bed, the bed she had gotten so used to in the past week. A tear slipped down her cheek at the thought of never returning to this house with this man.

The bathroom door opened, the hinges squeaking from lack of use. Draco emerged, hair wet, pants on, and a towel slung over his shoulders. His pace seized when she sniffled. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice flat and emotionless. Hermione wanted to curse him. She wished her wand were closer so she could hex him into next year. Instead, her tears flowed faster. "Hermione, please stop crying," he added, feeling his feet carry him closer to her. The bed dipped as he took a hesitant seat near her bent legs.

Hermione released a groan of frustration as she looked at him. Worry drew down the corners of his mouth as his eyebrows knitted together. "Please, say something. Hermione, anything," he begged, resting his hand on her knee.

"I just...I've never felt this way about anyone before," she replied quietly. "I've never loved anyone so much that my heart hurts. And to love the boy I hated for so long just makes it even harder to comprehend. It feels like this really great dream, being with you, but I'm scared that I'll wake up and you'll be the bully again."

Draco sighed and let his hand drift down her shin to her ankle and back up to her knee. "I can't promise anything but to love you, Hermione. Being with you brings out a side of me that's terrifying. I spent so long being closed off and emotionless, and one single night in the library stacks with you changed it all. I love loving you, and I hate that once again I'm the one who's making you cry."

Cocking her head to the side, Hermione sniffled once more before letting a small smile reached her mouth. "I think you should come to lunch at the Burrow with me today," she decided, hoping the vulnerable mood would work to her advantage.

Draco paled, but knew there was no way he could deny her this wish. "Get dressed," he told her. "It'll be noon before you know it."

An hour later, Draco stared up at the wayward house. "It's stable, right?" he asked nervously. "We're not going to be crushed to death because of the unevenness?"

"I used to think that too," Hermione admitted, dragging him closer to the front door. "It'll be fine though." They reached the front door, and Hermione pushed it open. The sitting room was filled with Weasleys, and she suddenly had second thoughts about bringing Draco home with her. The tension that filled the air was thick and palpable as several heads turned and eyes settled angrily on the couple.

"What the bloody hell is _he _doing here?" Ron spat, his face growing dark with anger. Harry Potter had a secure grip on the taller boy's arm to keep him from doing anything he might regret.

"Hermione?" Harry questioned, hoping a softer approach would coax an answer from his friend.

The hand that held Hermione's tightened as the uneasiness grew. Her gaze flickered to the tall blonde beside her before returning to her friends. She no idea what to say, knew no way to explain their relationship. Simply, she shrugged. "I brought a friend over for lunch," she replied calmly.

"_Malfoy_?" Ron bellowed. "Since when are you and _Malfoy _friends?"

"Sixth year," Draco answered through gritted teeth.

"But that's-" Ron began, but was cut off by the appearance of his mother.

Mrs. Weasley wore a kind smile for her newly arrived guests. "Ginny, be a dear and set another place," she instructed before bustling over to Hermione. She gathered the young witch in a tight hug, kissed her cheek, and gave her a knowing look. "I do hope everything went well at home. I'm sure there's much to be done there before your parents return."

"Oh, yes, everything is in order," Hermione lied smoothly.

"Good," Mrs. Weasley replied before turning to Draco. She surveyed him, noticing the smile that began to form on his lips. Her hand softly patted his left cheek twice. "Now then, lunch will be ready in a few minutes. I'm glad you could come, dear."

"I'm glad to be here," he told her sincerely.

Harry and Ron watched in horror as the scene unfolded. Ginny, returning from the kitchen, joined them and inserted herself between her boyfriend and her brother.

"Mione looks happy," she observed. Harry nodded in agreement, but said nothing else. "She deserves to be happy," Ginny added, glancing at her enraged brother.

"She's supposed to be _my _girlfriend," Ron grumbled, flexing his sore fingers as they unfurled from the tight balls into which he'd clenched them. "That bloody ferret did nothing but torture her for years, and suddenly they're making lovey-dovey eyes at one another. It's sick."

Harry cleared his throat before pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. "Ten galleons says she hasn't the seen the _Prophet _today," he remarked, receiving questioning stares from the two youngest members of the Weasley clan. "His engagement announcement was printed this morning."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The paper wrinkled in his hands as Draco twisted the offensive material. His feet carried him quickly up the front path of Malfoy Manor, through the front door and foyer, up the stairs, and two doors down on the right-hand side. He didn't bother with knocking, and barged into his mother's private sitting room.

"What the hell is this?" he inquired, angrily throwing the newspaper at her. Narcissa looked up, her blue eyes betraying nothing. "What the bloody hell is this rubbish?"

"Is that the _Daily Prophet_, dear?" she asked calmly, waiting for him to hand her the paper.

Draco seethed at her lack of interest. He stooped forward and picked it up to hand to her. "It's my engagement announcement to Greengrass. I thought I made it clear to everyone involved that I would not be marrying her."

The older woman nodded her head once. "Yes, it was quite a show you put on. There are standards to uphold, Draco darling, and I expect you to do what is appropriate and asked of you."

"I will not marry her," Draco said, losing some of his steam. "I can't believe you would force your only child to do this."

Narcissa sighed, flipping loose hair over her shoulder. "Honestly, Draco, you're making more of this than need be. Astoria is a beautiful girl. From what I've been told, she's very smart and has a lovely personality. It's a good match."

Draco sunk down onto the footrest, his back to his mother. "What about Hermione?" he wondered. "She's beautiful and smart, too smart really. And she's funny and comforting and loving. What if she's the one I wanted to be with, not Astoria?"

Narcissa leaned forward on the settee and rested a cold hand on Draco's shoulder. "She isn't a Pureblood." He was left alone with those parting words as his mother left the room. He sat there alone in his mother's room. It was a room he ran to as a child when he was the cause of his father's wrath. There was a small closet, tucked away in a back corner, and that had been his hiding place until he was too big to fit. Draco thought for a moment about returning to that closet, making himself fit in the cramped space.

Just as he stood to make his way to his old hiding place the door opened to once again reveal his mother. "Astoria will be here soon to see you," she informed him. "And you will be nice to this girl, Draco."

He replied with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, but followed her out of the room. While Narcissa continued down the hallway, Draco veered towards the staircase. He took each step slowly as if he were marching to his death. A small house elf stood at the bottom of the stairs, nerves getting to it as he approached.

"Master, Miss Greengrass is in the parlor waiting for you." The words were shaky as the elf looked down at the hem of its stained and wrinkled outfit.

"Thank you, Binky," Draco replied kindly. Memories of Hermione's campaign to free the house elves floated through his mind as a smile lit his face. The smile wilted as he pushed open the parlor doors and caught sight of the pretty blonde.

"Hi," she greeted him softly, looking up as the door scraped along the track. Draco said nothing as he neared, but gave a small nod of his head. "I wanted to talk since we didn't get a chance to that day at lunch."

Draco took a seat on the sofa, sitting as far from her as he could. A petulant frown turned down the corners of his mouth as his arms folded over his chest. With one wave of his hand he beckoned her to continue.

Astoria released a small huff, but spoke. "Could we start over? Perhaps if we pretended that this arrangement was our idea, it would make it easier when the time comes to actually go through with it."

He leaned forward, careful not to get too close. "Do you really want to do this?" he asked. "Do you really want to be told who you should marry? And do you really want that person to be me?"

"I don't know," Astoria whispered, twirling a curl around her finger nervously. "I'm sixteen. I don't want to be a wife."

A smile, a real, genuine smile formed on Draco's lips. "I don't want to be a husband," he replied, without adding _to you._ "I suppose it couldn't hurt to try being friends though."

Hermione pulled the goose feather pillow over her head to block out the noise of the Burrow. It was overwhelming how loud only a few people could be. The sounds of footsteps pounded the stairs and neared her room. A soft knock sounded on the door, and Hermione granted whoever it was entrance in hopes that the person would soon go away. She rolled over as the door opened.

"Hey, Mione," Harry said cheerily. She offered him a small smile as the raven haired boy took a seat on the edge of her bed. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"About Draco?" she asked defensively, pulling herself into a seated position.

Harry shrugged. "Do you want to talk about Draco?"

"No," she muttered, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Sorry, Harry, I just can't take it here anymore. Ron's not speaking to me to because I'm with him, Ginny's avoiding me for whatever reason, George stares daggers at me whenever I enter a room. Fred and Mrs. Weasley are the only ones in this house who don't seem to care."

Harry sighed, ruffling his hair. "I won't care that you're dating Draco Malfoy as long as he makes you happy and doesn't hurt you."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione replied, resting her hand on his forearm. "So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

The grin returned to Harry's face. "I've been fixing up 12 Grimmauld Place, and I plan to move in there once the work is done. I wanted to offer you a room there. It'll be quieter there, and you'll be able to study or write or do whatever you want without the commotion of the Weasley house. What do you say?"

Hermione launched herself at her best friend, wrapping her arms around his neck. Harry stumbled back a bit, but managed to support her and himself. "You're the greatest friend I've ever had," she murmured into his ear. "You have no idea how much I needed this news."

"Glad to oblige," Harry replied, though her happiness wasn't shared.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Raindrops began to fall, slowly at first. One drop here, two drops minutes later, until the wind picked up and the sky darkened from cloud cover. It was a torrential rain storm by the time Draco and Astoria make their way into The Three Broomsticks. Draco, ever the gentleman, held his suit jacket over her head to protect her from the assault of the rain. Once they reached the safe haven of the pub, he removed it, draping the material casually over his arm. Astoria giggled and linked her arm through the free one that he offered as they moved to a quiet table near the back. Her laugh tinkled; not in an annoying, giggly way as Pansy Parkinson's had. No, Astoria's laugh had a soft, humorous lilt to it.

It reminded him of Hermione.

His eyes wandered as he pulled out a chair for Astoria, making sure she was seated before taking his own across from her. With every movement of the door, Draco's heart fluttered with the fear that it would be Hermione. He was sure she didn't know yet that he and Astoria were betrothed, and he knew he should be the one to tell her. To break her heart.

"Draco? Are you okay?" Astoria asked, waving her hand in front of his face.

He turned his head sharply to look at the blonde before him. "Sorry, thought I saw someone I knew," he covered, a false smile touching his lips. "What were you saying?"

"I was telling you that my mum is quite pleased with the match," Astoria replied. "Daphne running off with Theo Nott put a bit of a cramp in their plans, but luckily they have a back up daughter." Her last words were traced with a hint of sarcasm as her blue eyes rolled.

Draco placed a comforting hand over hers and smiled. "You're not the back up," he murmured. "I'd dare say you're better than Daph. I don't think I've ever smiled around her."

"I don't remember you ever smiling," the young witch pointed out. "Although, it is a nice change from our school days. Anything in particular to which you can credit this rather shocking change?"

It was out of his mouth before he had a chance to think. "Hermione Granger."

Astoria's eyes widened and a gasp escaped. "So she's the girl you were talking about that day. She's the one you love." Draco nodded slowly. "What if you married her? Just run away in the middle night and elope. It sounds awfully romantic, don't you think?"

Shaking his head ruefully, Draco pulled back his hand and let it fall into his lap with the other one. "I've never felt this way about anyone. Ever. I can't get her off my mind. I dream about her most nights. It's nice to not have to be guarded around her.

"There's been so many things I've done in the past, to her and her friends and just everyone. She's forgiven it all," Draco continued, glad he had someone to whom he could voice this revelation. "People like you and I were raised to believe that muggleborns have no place in our world, that they're beneath us. She's the smartest, most talent person I've ever met."

Astoria chuckled. "You've got it bad, Draco Malfoy," she said with a smile. And Draco agreed. "Hermione's a lucky girl to get to know this side of you. I feel a little honored to get a peak at it myself."

Sincerity flashed briefly in his gray eyes. "Thanks for this, today," he said to her. "It's nice to have a friend."

"How does she not know yet?" Ginny asked, hunched over the latest edition of _The Daily Prophet_ that was spread open on the kitchen table. Ron, who sat at the other end, just shrugged uncaringly. Ginny threw him a sour look as she continued to flip through the pages. "Don't be a git just because she picked someone else over you."

Ron scoffed, reaching a long arm out across the table to grab a section of the paper. "Yeah, a guy who's gonna break her heart into a million little pieces. He's probably got her under a love spell or something so he can publicly humiliate her at his wedding. Besides, you were the one who hid the society section with the announcement from her."

"I really thought he might be different," Ginny mused sadly, choosing to ignore his last comment.

"Why hasn't Harry told her about it yet?" Ron wondered, keeping his sights trained on the newspaper.

Ginny shrugged. "Perhaps he thinks it would be better for Malfoy to tell her. It's not really our place to interfere."

Her brother's ears turned pink as his temper rose. "I'm going to Harry's," he declared, his chair scraping the floor.

Ginny stood and ran to block the doorway. Her hands held onto either side of the door jamb as she stared her older brother down defiantly. "Don't do anything stupid, Ronald," she warned. "Don't do anything to hurt Hermione. She's still one of your best friends."

Ron said nothing, but turned away from the door his sister blocked. He made his way from the kitchen through the sitting room and exited through the front door. The sun made a brief appearance, breaking through the rainclouds. But Ron paid no attention to the cheerful weather as he disapparated to 12 Grimmauld Place. He opened the front door and called out for Harry.

"He's not here," Hermione informed him, lowering the book that she previously held in front of her face. "Anything I can help you with?"

Ron paled, not expecting to confront his friend, the only girl he'd ever truly loved. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck as he shuffled closer to the sofa she sat on. "I shouldn't be the one telling you this," he started, perching on the edge of his seat, "but we're friends, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

Hermione closed the book and placed it on the coffee table. He now had her undivided attention. A smirk began to form on Hermione's lips when Ron said nothing further. "Ron?" He turned to look at her with wide, frightened eyes. "What is it you need to tell me?"

A gush of air was expelled from Ron's lungs. "Malfoy's getting married," he finally said.

Hermione's eyes widened, but a nonplussed look replaced the shock she felt. "I knew that already," she lied.

The redhead's eyebrows rose skeptically. "And you're okay with this?" he inquired. The color was returning to his face as his ire rose. "I mean he's marrying another girl and, what, keeping you on the side?"

Hermione shrugged, feeling tears prick behind her eyes. They were tears of hurt and betrayal. She wondered if Draco had ever planned to tell her about his engagement. Ron, though, feared that he had hurt her feelings, not for the first time in their long friendship. He muttered an apology, but Hermione dismissed it. She rose from the couch and grabbed her book.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have to be somewhere," she stated tersely. Her arms wound around her waist as Ron stood. He wore a dejected expression when she wouldn't allow him the opportunity to comfort her. Instead he placed a kiss on her temple. "Thank you for coming. It was good to see you." Ron nodded and walked out the front door.

The tears began to fall slowly as Hermione concentrated as hard as she could on the cliffside house in Ireland. The white cottage came into view as soon as she opened her eyes. As she made her way up the front walk, the front door opened as Draco stepped out into the sunshine. A smile graced his face at the sight of her, but faded quickly when he saw the sad expression she wore.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice full of worry and concern as he closed the distance between them.

"Is it true?" she wanted to know. "Are you engaged to someone else?"

Draco groaned, but had to nod his head. "I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. It's an arranged marriage that neither of us wants to be in."

The brunette sniffled, angry at the way her emotions betrayed her. "How long were you going to let this continue?" she wondered. Draco shrugged, unable to meet her eyes. "I won't be your mistress." Her tone became more defiant as the words tumbled forth from her mouth.

"I don't want you to be my mistress," Draco murmured, taking a step closer. If he thought she would have allowed it, he would have pulled her to him and never let go. But with each step forward, Hermione took one step back. "Astoria and I are both trying to find a way out of this. I don't want to be with her. I want you."

Hermione shook her head as a fresh wave of tears streamed. "I'm sorry, Draco." He stood still, watching her take a step back and Apparate away. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It was a week later when Hermione once again stood outside Draco's cottage. The wind whipped around her hair as she nervously debating knocking on the door or leaving. The decision would not be hers to make as the door swung open. Draco stood before her with his trademark smirk glaring down at her.

"Um, hi," she said uneasily.

"What are you doing here?" Draco inquired nonchalantly as he examined his fingernails. Briefly, his eyes had flickered to her own, red-rimmed and puffy from exhaustion and tears.

Hermione looked up, squinting against the sunlight. "I wanted to see you...because I've missed you."

The smirk briefly turned into a smile before returning to the previous expression. "You've miss me, huh?" he sneered. "Last I checked you're the one who ended things with me. You don't just get to change your mind. We're done." His hand caught the door and began to close it, but Hermione had other ideas.

"Just stop," she cried in exasperation. "Please, Draco. I know this is stupid, and I shouldn't be here. But, please, can't we at least talk?" Her tone was soft and pleading, and she knew it would work on him. He stopped closing the door and continued to stare at her.

"What more is there to say, Hermione?" he wondered listlessly. Hermione hung her head, unsure how to answer. "It's over. I love you, but it's over."

Her hand reached for his wrist as he attempted to shut the door once more. Draco's gaze drifted down to the soft, small hand that held him. There was a look of determination in her brown eyes, and he immediately softened to her desires. His lips were upon hers, relishing the feel of her tongue sweep across his own. He wound his arms firmly around her waist, pulling her into the house. Her fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt before she managed to push it off of his shoulders. Before she could undo his belt, Draco pulled away and removed her hands.

"Wait," he said, smiling as she groaned in frustration. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Because we've never done _this _before?" Hermione quipped, frustrated that he would not release her hands.

Draco laughed, linking their fingers together. "That was before you knew," he reminded her.

Stretching up on her toes, Hermione brushed her lips against his. "I've decided I don't care. I spent so many years playing by the rules and making sacrifices for everyone else. I'm doing what I want to do now," she told him before kissing him again.

It was hours later when Hermione awoke. Draco's legs were tangled around her own as he slept comfortably with her in his arms. Maneuvering herself so that she could lean over him, she ghosted her lips softly over his jaw, careful to avoid his lips. Hermione smiled as Draco stirred and moaned as she nipped his earlobe. The trail of kisses moved back across his jaw. She was poised over his lips when he spoke.

"Marry me."

His voice was thick and hoarse, but his words were clear. Hermione pulled back, startled by what she heard. "I thought you were already betrothed to some rich pureblood," she commented sardonically, raising one eyebrow as she settled down atop his chest.

Draco kissed her softly. "But I don't _want _to marry her," he replied. "I _want _to marry you."

"Draco," she groaned, rolling off of him and onto her back.

He sat up, resting a hand across her stomach. "Think about it - if we get married, we can be together forever, and I won't have to marry some witch who doesn't love me. Astoria doesn't want to get married. At least, not to me. Think of her happiness, Hermione."

"That was the worst proposal ever," Hermione laughed, rolling onto her side as he lay back down beside her.

"Doesn't mean I don't mean it," Draco murmured, pulling her into his chest. His knuckles traced a chilling line along her spine. "What do you say, Hermione Granger, want to make me an honest man?"

"I think it's going to take more than a ring to make an honest man out of Draco Malfoy," the young witch joked, flashing him a smile. His hands ceased moving and the corners of his mouth turned down. "Wait, you're serious?" she asked, feeling a change in emotions.

Draco nodded. "I'm as serious as I am in love with you," he replied.

Hermione breathed out deeply, staring into deep gray eyes with awe. "Wow," was all she said. She watched him roll over, pulling himself to the edge of the bed. The drawer of the nightstand was pulled open, and seconds later he returned to her side. In his hand was a small, black, velvet box. Hermione knew what was inside, and her eyes grew wider.

He settled back down, lying beside her as he played with the box. "I bought this," he spoke thoughtfully, "the day I returned home from the battle. I was so sure that night when we kissed by the lake that you're the girl I want to spend my life with. I don't care about the deal my family made with the Greengrasses. You said before that you're finally doing what you want to do. Well, so am I.

"So, Hermione Granger, will you marry me?" he asked once more.

Hermione's eyes moved from the still closed box to his eyes full of sincerity and love. "Yes," she whispered. Draco's smile grew, crinkling the corners of his eyes, as he opened the box and slipped the simple platinum diamond onto her finger. Before he could kiss her, Hermione pulled her head back. "How do we do this? I mean, what about your parents and Astoria? Do we run away and elope and never return to England?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself here," Draco replied with a chuckle. She tried to speak again, but he silenced her with a kiss. "We'll figure it all out. Together," he assured her. Her eyes drifted down to her ring as she yawned. "Go back to sleep."

Moonlight shone through the part in the curtains as Draco sat up wide awake. Hermione slept peacefully beside him, her back to him. The ring on her finger glinted softly in the moonlight as her hand rested on the pillow beside her face, and Draco shook his head ruefully. He shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have given her that ring. He shouldn't have proposed. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Draco removed the ring from her finger and placed it on the nightstand.

He slid out of bed and wandered over to the window, parting the curtains so he could look out at the night sky. His forehead pressed against the cool glass as he contemplated what life would be like with Hermione Granger by his side. A smile lit up his face as arms slid around his waist from behind.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked in a voice husky from sleep. Her bare chest pressed against his smooth back as she hugged him tighter.

"You," he answered, slowly turning in her grasp. "I'm always thinking about you."

Her hands moved up his waist and over his chest until she reached his neck. Rising up on her toes, Hermione pressed her lips to his. "Funny, I'm always thinking about you too. Who'd have ever thought we'd be doing that," she mused.

Draco crushed their lips together once more before pulling away. "What do you think of Paris? It's lovely this time of year. We can walk along the Seine and visit the Louvre. You know Munch was a wizard, right? Crucio'd one time too many," he added, shaking his head sadly at the thought.

"And what else will we do there?" she wondered humorously.

Draco smiled. "We'll get married." 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

With a spring in his step and a tune on his tongue, Draco strolled casually into Malfoy Manor. The noonday sunlight caught the gold band on his finger, causing it to gleam in the light. That made him smile more than he'd smiled in a long time.

"And how was Paris?" his mother inquired, setting aside a thick book as he entered the parlor.

"Fantastic," Draco replied. "Why was I summoned in the middle of my honeymoon?"

Narcissa rose gracefully from the chaise she had rested upon and drew nearer to her only child. Her expression betray no emotion, and it came as a surprise to both when she slapped him. "You're still a spoiled child, Draco," she replied evenly. "Your father and I are to blame for that. I expected you to understand your place in society, though. People like us do not marry Mudbloods. You and Miss Granger _will _have this charade annulled, and you _will _marry Astoria Greengrass on the day her parents designated. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco sneered, staring down his nose at his mother. "Crystal clear, Mother. However, I've made my decision, as well. Hermione and I will remain married. We'll probably even give you grandchildren when the time is right. You'll accept that. Father will accept that. The Greengrasses will accept that."

He turned on his heel and proceeded towards the front door. He refused to look back at the woman behind him. As he pulled open the door, he finally looked back at her. "By the way, Astoria owled us her congratulations. Also mentioned in her letter that she's met someone at school. I'd keep an eye on the society pages you so love to read, Mother. I expect their wedding announcement will appear any day now."

Narcissa scowled, feeling her anger rise within her. She moved with purpose to the writing desk in the corner and pulled out a sheaf of parchment. Dipping her quill into the pot of ink beside her hand, she carefully documented the goings on for her husband. In her letter, she asked for the family attorney's information. She knew Draco would never willingly end his marriage, so she and Lucius would have to do it for him. With a sigh, she signed her name and stamped the Malfoy crest onto the trifolded parchment before sending it off with the family owl.

She breathed deeply as the bird flew away, hoping she was doing the right thing.

Anger bubbled deep within him as Draco strolled through Diagon Alley before returning to Hermione. The bright, midday sun was a stark contrast to his dark mood, and he felt for a minute as if the old Draco was beginning to reemerge. Dark, unkempt hair caught his eye and he began to veer away.

"Malfoy!"

Draco cringed at the sound of his name coming from Potter's mouth. Nothing could have made him angrier at the moment, unless Weasley accompanied the Boy Who Lived. He stopped walking, turning in the direction from which he was called. He scowled at his former schoolmate as he neared.

"Haven't seen Mione in a while," Harry commented, shifting from foot to foot as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Her tastes have obviously matured as she's gotten older," Draco quipped.

Harry's eyes narrowed and his mouth set into a straight line. "Where is she, Malfoy?" he inquired tersely, ceasing his uneasy shifting.

A smile lit Draco's face. Whether the change in his mood could be attributed to being able to goad Harry Potter or from thoughts of his new wife, he couldn't be sure. "My lovely wife is in Fiji. We've decided to extend the honeymoon as long as we can."

Harry smirked a smirk that would rival Malfoy's any day. "Oh, so you've already married the Greengrass girl from the papers. Congratulations, Malfoy," he replied, a sarcastic gleam in his eye.

Gray eyes narrowed with impatience and anger. "Sod off, Potter," the blonde muttered, attempting to step around the other man. Harry caught Draco's arm before he could get far enough away. Draco stared down at the hand on his arm, attempting to shrug it off.

"Just hold on," Harry said, his own impatience growing. "Did you and Hermione really elope?" Draco nodded in affirmation. Harry sighed, running a hand through messy hair. "You shouldn't have done that."

Draco scowled, blonde eyebrows furrowing at these words. When he offered no reply, Harry continued. "We all know your twisted family will find a way to break the two of you up. Hermione doesn't deserve to be hurt at their hand again. It's stupid the way the two of you have rushed into this. This isn't like Hermione."

"She wanted to do this just as much as I did," the blonde argued, feeling his temper rise. He hated nothing more than defending his decisions to people who, in his opinion, didn't deserve an explanation. Taking a step back, he wrenched his arm out of Potter's grip. "If you're finished, I should be going."

Without giving the other man a chance to respond, Draco Apparated on the spot and soon arrived outside the beach-front villa he and Hermione were sharing. The sky was dark, with only a few stars shining through. The ebb and flow of the tide caused a loud rush of waves to lap the sandy shore. The whitewashed villa stood out brightly in the darkness, a single candle burning in the window of what he knew to be the sitting room. Upon entering, he turned toward the sitting room to extinguish the flame when he saw her asleep on the couch, bathed in the glow of the candle's light. She stirred softly in her sleep as Draco ran his fingers through her curls, pushing them back from her face.

"Where have you been?" she asked, eyes still closed. She reached up to pull his hand from her hair and hold it in her own. "I missed you."

Draco sighed, folding his legs beneath him as he sat on the floor by her side. Reluctantly, he told her about the conversation with his mother and Potter. He shared his fear that his parents might attempt to split them up. At this, her eyes shot open. "I won't let them do it. I swear," he assured her.

"I know," she replied, giving his hand a squeeze. She sat up, never letting go of his hand, and smiled up at him. "You've tracked sand into the house. Would you mind terribly cleaning that up before you come to bed?" she asked before retreating towards the bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

Just a little something from me to you on this glorious Friday. I'm working on a book entitled "The Ultimate Harry Potter and Philosophy." Quite a good read; I definitely recommend it...and not just because it's my company that publishes it. Well, maybe a little.

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Chapter 9

Lucius Malfoy paced relentless in his Azkaban cell. The letter, delivered minutes ago by the guard, was clutched and wrinkled in his hand. His son, his heir, had betrayed their family and married an enemy. And not just any enemy. Hermione Granger. Lucius scoffed, hanging his head as scraggly, unwashed locks of blonde hair fell into his face. Hermione Granger. He could have at least tolerated his son's rebellion if it had been the Weasley girl, but to choose the mudblood was beyond his comprehension.

The letter, still crushed in his fist, had seemed rushed and panicked. A part of him feared for his beloved wife's sanity in such a trying time. After decades of putting his family through hell, Lucius vowed to help his wife now in any way he could. There was little he could accomplish while locked away in prison, but the least he could do was give her the information she so desperately sought. With a quick summons to the guard who paced the halls outside of his cell, he was able to acquire a quill and ink. Swiftly, he wrote the name and address of the family attorneys before handing the letter over to the guard to owl back to his wife.

With a sigh, Lucius moved back to his flat mattress and sat down as the door slammed shut. He lay back, staring up at the stone slabs that comprised the ceiling. In the months since he began staring up while lying on his back, he often wondered how his family was surviving without him. It was possible that they could be happier without his constant presence. Draco surely felt happier without his father. A change needed to be made once he was released. Years of pureblood mania and prejudice had ruined Lucius Malfoy long ago, and he feared change might not come.

A knock on the iron door stirred Lucius from his thoughts.

"Malfoy, visitor," the guard informed him in a gruff, impatient voice. The door opened as the armed guard crowded into the doorway, in case the prisoner should escape. Lucius slowly removed himself from his bed with all the grace of a Malfoy. He was escorted by the guard to the visitors' room. There, on the other side of the metal table sat Draco.

"I'm not here because I want to be," Draco preempted his father's less than cordial greeting. "Mother insisted that I see you more often."

"Once and often are not synonymous, Draco," Lucius drawled, lifting one eyebrow.

"Consider it a start," the younger man snapped. His eyes narrowed on his father who sat back in his chair smirking lazily at his son. There was an awkward tension between the pair; a tension neither man was sure how to break.

Lucius stood and began to pace around the small room. "I understand congratulations are in order," he mused, letting his gaze fall on his son momentarily. Draco kept his eyes trained on the chair that had recently been vacated. "Married the mudblood, did we?"

"She is not a mudblood," Draco replied through gritted teeth.

"No, no, of course not," Lucius drawled sarcastically. He chuckled quietly when his son growled. Deciding on a different tactic to make his son talk, he neared Draco's side of the table and leaned against it. "Your mother is unhappy about this, but I'm sure you were already aware of that. Is there nothing you would be willing to do to ease your mother's troubles?"

Draco pushed his chair back far enough to look his father in the eye. "If you're asking me to divorce my wife, you can forget it."

Lucius shook his head disapprovingly. "Don't be stubborn, Draco. Think of your family."

The chair crashed to the ground and a wand was pointed under Lucius's chin. "At what point did you start thinking about our family?" Draco seethed, his gray eyes narrowing thinly. "I can't recall the last time you made a decision with our best interest at heart. Do not offer advice you yourself cannot follow." He lowered his wand, expelling a breath, but continued to hold onto the dingy robes his father wore.

"Perhaps you are right," Lucius relented, feeling his son's grip loosen slightly. "It was always your mother who showed the most care for you. I ask only that you take her feelings on the matter into account."

Draco nodded curtly. "I'll take that under advisement," he replied. "But I highly doubt anything will change between Hermione and me. We're happy, and I'd appreciate it if my family could accept that. I've spent the majority of my life watching a sick, sadistic, malicious bastard tear my family apart. Don't I, don't we all deserve a little chance at a normal life now?"

"You do," his father relented. Draco's hands fell from the front of Lucius's robes and hung defeatedly by his sides. "And Miss Granger can give you this normal life you so desperately seek?"

Draco nodded. "She can."

At that moment, the door opened and a guard announced that visiting hours were over. He would escort Mr. Malfoy back to his cell, taking hold of his right arm. Lucius turned back quickly, and spoke.

"We will not interfere, Draco," were his parting words. Draco didn't believe them. His parents would not rest until he and Hermione were forever separated and he slipped the family ring onto the well-manicured finger of Astoria Greengrass. He left the prison with more anxiety than ever.

Back in his cell, Lucius pondered the ways to end his son's marriage. He had promised they would not interfere, but his wife surely knew of ways to get around his oath. It seemed, from the little intelligence he received, that the Greengrasses were just as angry about the turn of events. There was a chance the Malfoys could use them to ensure a union of the two families.

Reaching underneath his bed, Lucius pulled out a sheaf of parchment and a quill. Touching ink to paper, he scrawled three words to his wife - "Use the Greengrasses." She would understand the meaning behind this, of that he was sure. He would send it the next morning during the mail rounds.

Then it would just be a matter of waiting.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hermione sat tucked in the corner of the couch, a pillow clutched to her chest, as the latest edition of _The Daily Prophet_ was spread out on the coffee table. The headline staring up at her declared the date for the upcoming nuptials of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass. A tear slid down Hermione's cheek. Not because she believed the libelous words, but out of fear that the situation she currently found herself was becoming too good to be true.

The Purebloods of the wizarding world were a ruthless people, hellbent on always having things go their way. Hermione knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that both families would put into action any plan they could to separate her and Draco. Rita Skeeter was having a field day, describing each step of the wedding planning process that Hermione herself knew to not be happening.

With a small nudge from her big toe, the paper fell off the coffee table and onto the floor. She didn't want to have to see the offensive article any more than necessary. Just as the paper fluttered to the floor, the front door opened and slammed shut. Hermione was sure that she heard two distinct sets of footsteps near her. The sound of laughter floated through the hallway, stopping only when Draco spotted Hermione.

"Hi," he greeted her happily, placing a sweet kiss to her lips. Hermione made no reply, staring at the girl behind him. Draco noticed her where her gaze led, and turned back to the blonde. "Love, this is Astoria Greengrass."

"Pleasure," Hermione replied flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes darted back to Draco, expressing her desire for an explanation. He turned back with a polite smile, and excused Hermione and himself.

Once they reached the kitchen, Draco sighed. "She wants to help," he stated, leaning back against the counter. Hermione scoffed, taking a seat at the small kitchen table. "I told you she doesn't want to marry me. We're trying to figure out a way to get our families to let us out of this."

"Last I checked, you're already married," Hermione muttered. From the corner of her eye, she saw Draco push away from the counter and take the seat beside her. She trained her focus on the window in front of her, intent on not looking at her husband.

Draco rested a comforting hand on her forearm. "I am aware of that too," he replied softly, trying to keep his usually short temper at bay. "I love _you_. I picked _you_, Hermione. You were the one who stood by my side during sixth year when my whole world was falling apart. I may not always be the best guy, but I swear I never want to do anything that will hurt you."

"I know," she whispered softly. Though her gaze remained on the window, her hand came up to rest atop the hand that he had placed on her arm. Her thumb moved in lazy lines across his soft skin. Finally, she allowed her eyes to shift to her right, catching sight of Draco. "I trust you. It's just your family and her family that I don't trust."

"Believe me, I feel the same way," Draco muttered. He pushed back his chair an inch and stood. The hand that had rested on Hermione's arm gave it a tug, making her stand as well. "We should probably get back to the sitting room. Wouldn't want to look rude."

Hermione leaned into his embrace, resting her forehead against his chest. "Or we could just stay in here and snog," she suggested coyly, earning a chuckle from Draco. His lips pressed to hers before he led her back to the sitting room.

Astoria, in all her pureblooded, blonde glory, sat perched on the edge of the sofa with a nervous smile plastered on her aristocratic face. She stood as soon as the couple entered and nodded politely in greeting.

"So, Draco says you could be of some service with this little arranged marriage mess," Hermione said, making it clear with her tone that she was skeptical.

Astoria, whose eyes seemed trained on the tall blonde before her, snapped them quickly over to Hermione. "Oh, yeah," she replied with an uncharacteristic waver. Quickly, she righted herself and produced a more definitive, confident "yes."

Hermione scoffed, noticing where the other girl's attentions lay at the moment. From the corner of her eye, she saw the expression her husband wore. It was an expression that told her to play nice, and that she would not be happy if the old, angry Draco reappeared. The brunette rolled her eyes in his direction and moved to take a seat on the sofa beneath the bay window. Draco took a seat beside her, and Astoria sat on the vacant armchair adjacent to them.

"So, what's the master plan?" Hermione inquired shortly. She scowled at Draco's touch, as he draped his arm around her shoulders and gripped her upper arm just hard enough for her to know that he was patience with her was beginning to wane.

Astoria seemed not to notice, or at least she pretended not to. "I think you two need to make your relationship public," she said quietly. "Perhaps if the rest of the wizarding world knew that Draco already married, our parents wouldn't be able to enforce our own marriage." 

"And you really think that would deter your families from breaking us up and continuing on with their grand plans of a union between you two?" Hermione inquired, truly believing that the plan spouted off by the blonde was complete rubbish.

"I happen to think this could work," Draco interjected, flashing Astoria a kind smile that Hermione couldn't help but loathe. He turned to his right to look at Hermione, softening his expression as he spoke again. "This could work, love. If people knew about us...a divorce would only serve as a further embarrassment in my mother's eyes. So, if we go public, it might make her think twice about forcing you and me apart."

"What if that doesn't work?" she asked him, a touch of fear in her whisper.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Draco replied. "And if all else fails, we'll run away and change our names and live happily ever after," he added jokingly.

"Be serious," Hermione chided, pushing away his arm from her shoulders.

He told hold of her wrist, his thumb rubbing comforting circles against the soft skin. "I am being serious," he told her, all traces of humor gone from his face. "I would run away with you tomorrow. Just name the place and we're gone. I do, however, think that Astoria's plan is a good one. One worth trying before we skip the country."

Looking up through her eyelashes, Hermione felt tears begin to form. "Okay, let's do it," she decided.


	11. Chapter 11

So, yesterday I finished writing the story. My question to you, the loyal readers, is this - should I post the remaining chapters at one time, or do you prefer a new chapter every few days? Let me know! And enjoy!

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Chapter 11

The invitation came days later by owl. Mrs. Lucius Malfoy was cordially requesting the presence of Draco Malfoy and his new bride for Sunday night dinner. The invitation came on the heels of the young couple's first public foray at the Ministry Ball held only days earlier. Narcissa herself had not attended, but when word came from the Greengrasses that Draco had shown up with Hermione Granger on his arm, she knew something had to be done. 

Alastair and Seraphina Greengrass were scheduled to arrive half an hour before Draco and Hermione. It was important that they not bring Astoria, as Narcissa had become aware of the girl's friendship with her son and his new wife. Lucius had instructed her to use the Greengrasses, further their alliance to join the families. And that was exactly what she intended to do.

"Missus, the Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass have arrived," Binky informed her, slowly entering her sitting room. "Binky has shown them into the parlor."

"Thank you, Binky," Narcissa replied, her cold blue eyes trained on the vanity mirror in front of her. She waited for the door to close, signaling the exit of the little house elf. It was minutes before the Malfoy matriarch pulled herself together enough to leave her room and greet her guests.

Seraphina was speaking in a hushed, nervous whisper when Narcissa entered. "But the Malfoy boy was _actually _a Death Eater. At least Daphne only ran off with the son of a Death Eater."

Alistair's hard gaze was trained on his wife. "Death Eater or not, this marriage will happen," he declared with a sense of finality.

The regal blonde cleared her throat to alert her guests to her presence. "Good evening," she spoke calmly, never letting her eyes waver from the guests before her. "I'm so glad you were able to come on such short notice. As you know, the children will be arriving soon, and I thought it wise to discuss this...situation beforehand."

"I've had the divorce papers drawn up by my own legal team," Alistair Greengrass informed her in a stoically, baritone voice. "All we'll need is their signatures and we can move forward."

One blonde eyebrow rose. "And how do you intend to make them sign?" Narcissa inquired, pouring herself a cup of tea. Daintily, she dropped two sugar cubes into the cup and stirred quietly.

Alistair's brown eyes darkened. "By any means necessary." Seraphina gasped, beginning to protest that there were limits on what she would allow her husband to do. The tall, broad, imposing man turned to his wife and said again, "_Any_ means necessary." Seraphina's mouth quickly closed, though her face took on a reddened tint.

"Mr. Draco and Miss Hermione is here, madam," Binky informed the group, the timbre of his voice shaking. "Is Binky to show them in?" Narcissa nodded, and the three slipped into an uncomfortable silence.

Hand in hand, the young couple entered. Draco remained just a step ahead of Hermione, sure that she would require his protection for the purebloods assembled in the family home. His eyes were cold and emotionless as he greeted first his mother and then the Greengrasses. He noticed the sour expression Alistair Greengrass wore when he introduced Hermione as Hermione Malfoy. Hermione's hand tightened around his own as introductions finished.

"Well, please, children, be seated," Narcissa instructed, with a wave of her hand to the unattended loveseat. The evening flew by, a blur of food, drink, and stilted conversation. The newlyweds remained close by each other's sides, fearing the possible outcomes of separation. It wasn't until the dessert plates were cleared hours later, that Alistair suggested a night cap with Draco. The elder gentleman pushed back his chair and stood, waiting for Draco to do the same.

"Wand at the ready?" he whispered to his wife seated beside him.

"Always," she murmured, producing a short, mirthless laugh.

As the two men made their way to the den, Draco was filled with a sense of dread. There was no telling what would happen now that he and Hermione were separated. His father's den was cold and empty. The room was kept impeccably clean and organized. He watched as Alistair Greengrass moved gracefully around his father's mahogany desk and occupy the chair.

"Please, sit," the older man said, directing him to the chair he had sat in so many times in his youth; usually when he was in trouble. Draco narrowed his eyes at Greengrass, indignant to this man's insolence in his own home. Eventually, though, he dropped himself into the chair, his back ramrod straight. Alistair poured two tumblers of gin and handed one to Draco before taking a sip from his own glass. "My daughter tells me that she and Blaise Zabini have become quite...close," he continued, looking Draco directly in the eye.

"Blaise is a good man. Loyal to his friends, incredibly intelligent," Draco replied with little feeling. "He and Astoria would be a good match. Far better than anyone _you _could have paired her with."

Alistair snorted as a smile reached his lips. "Oh, surely now, my boy, you don't think that little of yourself," he chided humorously, though only he chuckled. He laid his wand and a small docket of papers on the desk before him. With his right hand, he fingered his wand while laying his left hand over the papers. "More to the point, my wife and I, along with your own parents, agree that you and my youngest child are to be wed. We will hear no argument to the contrary. These papers," he pushed the docket forward, "will release you from this...marriage between you and mudblood. You will sign them, and in six months time you will marry Astoria. Are there any questions?"

Draco leaned forward, arms resting against his legs. "Do you honestly expect me to sign this?" he inquired, eyeing the legal documents before him. "Did you really think you could get me in here and convince me to divorce my wife?" His right hand crept into the sleeve of his robe, fingering the wand hidden there. Slowly, inch by inch, Draco slid it out into view. It was gone seconds later when Alistair cast _Expelliarmus_. The blonde stared with wide eyes at the man before him.

"We can make this simple," Alistair spoke lazily, tucking Draco's wand into a desk drawer. "Either you sign, all of your own volition, or we cast a little spell to speed up the process. Which will it be?"

Draco rose from his seat and moved backwards towards the door. "You're insane," Draco announced, fearing momentarily what the man with his wand could do. "You're insane, and the Ministry will find out."

Just as his hand reached for the doorknob, Alistair stood and strode around the desk. His wand was raised, trained pointedly on Draco. "_Imperio!_"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

He was unsure what day it was. The sun had just peeked through the clouds, filtering in through the living room curtains. Had he spent the night on the couch? In the same clothes he'd worn to dinner...when had he been to dinner? His stomach growled painfully as he rolled himself off the couch. It seemed as if dinner at Malfoy Manor had been months ago, and he was positive he hadn't eaten since.

As he made his way through the first floor of the cottage, something was woefully missing. Few things had been touched or put out of place. But as Draco passed by the mantle, he realized their wedding picture, in the beautiful cut glass frame, was gone. Doubling back, he moved towards the front door, only to discover that Hermione's trainers weren't where she normally left them. Blind panic began to set in as he took the stairs two at a time. Her belongings no longer occupied their bedroom. The nightgown she draped over her pillow each morning was not there. The closet was bare of her clothes.

Draco's heart pounded erratically in his chest, resonating in his ears until he could hear nothing but the sounds of his own life.

Hermione was gone.

His legs no longer able or willing to support him, Draco slumped down to the floor. His back rested against the foot of their bed as he tried to recall the events that could have led to her disappearance.

_"You said you'd never hurt me."_

_"I thought you loved me."_

Draco swallowed, gulping in air as if he were drowning. The last thing he could clearly remember was sitting in his father's den, a glass in his hand, and a threatening Alistair Greengrass seated across from him. His knees pulled up to his chest and his forehead rested against them. With his eyes tightly shut, he tried to piece together that evening, but nothing but those haunting words came to him. They played over and over, taunting him to remember what had prompted them in the first place. His hands covered his ears as if that could banish them from his mind. If anyone had seen him at that moment they would have had him committed to the St. Mungo's psych ward.

He heard a loud pounding sound, but refused to move from his position. Whoever it was banging would eventually get the hint to go away. The disruptive noise continued on for another minute before it stopped. Draco sighed audibly, glad that the interruption ceased.

The floorboards creaked. Draco was on his feet a second later. His eyes wildly scanned the room for his wand, only to find it not there. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen it. The footfall neared, growing louder and heavier with each step. Anxiously, the blonde glanced around the room for some kind of weapon to use against the intruder who neared closer and closer as each second ticked by. He had a vase in his hand when the doorknob turned. It was raised above his head when he spotted Harry Potter pushing open his bedroom door.

Draco's eyes were wide, his mouth ajar, as he continued to hold the vase. Harry said nothing, his face devoid of any emotion. In his hand was a thin docket of paperwork. He waved it once for Malfoy to get a look before tossing it at the blonde's feet. Draco looked down then back to Harry.

"That's from Hermione," Harry informed him, his tone clipped and terse. He offered no further information, choosing instead to glare angrily at his childhood enemy.

Draco lowered the vase, placing it on the dresser. His eyes briefly flitted over Harry before he stooped down to pick up the papers. "Petition of divorce?" Draco read. "She's-"

Harry guffawed, effectively silencing Draco. "You're the one who told her to sign."

"But I didn't," Draco insisted, feeling the color drain from his face. A chill raced up his spine at the mere thought. He flipped through the pages, noticing their signatures throughout.

"Hermione said you handed the papers to her, and you'd already signed," Harry replied. "And I'm going to trust her on this. After all, she's always been nothing but trustworthy. You on the other hand..."

Draco sunk down onto the corner of the bed, the papers shaking in his right hand. "I don't remember this. I mean, this is my signature, but I don't remember even signing these."

Harry shrugged unfeelingly. He had no sympathy for his former classmate. "Look, all I know from Hermione is that you two were at your family's house for dinner two nights ago. You went into another room with Mr. Greengrass, and when you came out you threw the papers at her. She said you told her you couldn't be married to a 'disgusting, useless Mudblood' any longer, that all this time you've been seeing Astoria behind her back, and if she wasn't out of your house in ten hours you'd burn all of her belongings on the front lawn. In fact, you added that you might as well just set the whole house on fire since so many of her Mudblood germs have dared to touch the surfaces."

Draco looked up disgusted and aghast. Had he really said those things to his wife? Perhaps two years, he would have been proud to tell her off so nastily. But now, now she was his life, his family, and hadn't even been conscious of it.

"What if...what if I was under a spell or something?" Draco wondered. "Did Hermione say if I looked different, vacant, confused, anything?"

Harry sighed, not wanting to be involved in any of this mess. "She said you sneered and smirked and you had that twinkle in your eye that you used to get when you taunted us as children."

The blonde groaned, running shaky fingers through his hair. "There has to be something else to this," he insisted. "A reason I don't remember it."

"Maybe you obliviated yourself," Harry suggested.

Draco shook his head. "No, wouldn't I have erased all my good memories of her if I did that? I remember that night we talked in the library back in sixth year. I remember our first kiss by the Black Lake after the battle. I remember our wedding and our honeymoon. What I don't remember is how or why I told her I wanted a divorce. I need to talk to her."

"She's boarding a plane for Australia as we speak," Harry informed him. "Going to look for her parents. Who knows how long that could take."

"But I could help. We've got the money to hire the best people to track down her parents."

Harry held up a hand to silence him. "Malfoy, just stop," he said. "Under a spell or not, you broke my best friend's heart. And, sure, she can be forgiving, but I don't foresee her forgiving you for this. Just let it go. Let her go." 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Hermione breathed in deep the Australian air. The sun shone brightly overhead; a stark contrast to the English weather and her current mood. Scenes from nights earlier replayed over and over in her mind - the mean, haughty tone when he called her a Mudblood, the way his lips curled into the familiar sneer she'd seen so many times before, the way he laughed as tears began to pool in her eyes. There was one feeling she couldn't shake as she remembered that night, and that was the way his steely gray eyes were glazed over and emotionless, distant. It was as if he wasn't even in his own body.

She shook her head. No, that was just Draco. Cold, closed off, emotionless, cruel. Somehow, along the way, she'd lost track of all that. Her eyes caught the rings since adorning her left hand. She hadn't been able to take them off, despite the cruel and upsetting way her marriage had abruptly ended. For a second, she considered tossing them in the ocean, but thought better of it. Selling the jewelry could probably finance a very nice flat.

A light breeze blew through the midday air as Hermione strolled down a beach-side boardwalk. Her parents, Henry and Jane Granger, had never been particularly fond of beaches. The sand was too messy, the waves too intrusive, the sun too hot. But, perhaps, Monica and Wendell Wilkins would have a different kind of thinking. After all, these were people whose lifelong goal it was to visit the beautiful, little continent.

The small beach-side cafe near the end of the boardwalk was her destination. She had found the little place the day she had arrived. The one room cafe was open and airy, the front doors always left open for the patrons to view the ocean. The little two person table closest to the open windows was the one Hermione always chose when it was available. She stared out at the blueness of the ocean and the whiteness of the sand, at the people sunbathing and running and swimming and laughing. With a sigh, Hermione turned away and pulled from her messenger bag the daily newspaper, a map of Australia, and the research she had gathered to help her track down her parents.

She really had no idea where to start.

A breeze blew through the cafe, ruffling and blowing away some of Hermione's paper. With a groan, she flung her pencil down onto the table and leaned over to gather up her materials.

"Oh, here, let me help."

Hermione, with a pile of papers pointing every which way in her hands, glanced up at the kind, feminine voice that spoke to her. Dark brown ringlets framed a sun kissed, brown eyed, smiling face.

"Mum?" Hermione whispered breathlessly, clutching her papers to her chest.

"Sorry?" the woman replied, her eyebrows knitting together.

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "Um, nothing. You just look like someone I knew...know."

The woman gave her a kind smile and stood. After handing Hermione her research, she stuck out her hand. "I'm Monica Wilkins, by the way. You sound British. My husband and I recently moved here from England."

Hermione produced a sad smile. "Hi Monica. I'm Hermione. Thanks for your help." She shoved her belongings haphazardly into her bag and left, breathing hard when she reached the small hotel at the other end of the boardwalk where she was staying. Once safely in her room, she leaned back against the closed door and felt the beginnings of tears form in her eyes.

They were bittersweet tears for having found her parents. They just would have no clue who she was unless she could reverse the memory charm. Then there would be the explanation of her actions and the potential fall out that followed. She had to do it though. She had to restore her parents' memories no matter the cost.

Monica Wilkins sat down at a small, round table near the back of the cafe. Like the daughter she didn't know she had, the cafe was her favorite spot on the boardwalk. Just as she began to sip her coffee and read her newspaper, the chair across from her scraped along the hardwood floor. She peered up as a tall, lanky, blonde-haired man sunk into the chair.

"Monica Wilkins, I presume." It wasn't a question.

Her mouth hung open as she stared at the man in front of her. He couldn't be more than 20 years old, but his facial features seemed superior and mature. When works would not come, she nodded her head.

"My name is Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself.

"How do you know my name?" she inquired, a small quiver in her voice.

Draco chuckled and shook his head. "You'll never believe me," he replied, smiling at her. "But there is someone you need to meet. Do you think you and your husband could meet me here tonight, say 8:00?"

Monica's eyes narrowed at the presumptuous blonde. "And what makes you think I would do that? You're a stranger. I'm not meeting one of your stranger friends. I want to know how you know me. Now."

Draco sighed and shook his fringe from his eyes. "We have a...an acquaintance in common," was all he told her.

"Who?"

"Can't say."

"Then I'm not meeting you." Monica pushed back her chair, folded her newspaper, and dropped a few dollar bills on the table. "Goodbye, Draco. I'd say it was nice meeting you, but I'd hate to lie."

Draco released an incredulous laugh as she walked away. He finally saw exactly from whom Hermione had inherited her feisty spirit. He smiled at the thought of Hermione. The way she smiled at him, the way her eyes lit up when he brought home a new book, the little hair tuck that accompanied the head tilt when she wanted to bend him to her every whim. Draco missed all of it and so much more. Their bed was cold, their house too quiet. He didn't want to be there anymore without her. In his mind, it was settled that he had to win her back. And reuniting her with her parents was the way to do it. 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Wendell Wilkins opened the front door to retrieve the morning paper. At that very moment, a tawny owl flew over his head and perched itself on the living room coffee table. In its beak was a piece of yellow parchment folded in half. Cautiously, Wendell approached the bird, fearing that it may attack if he moved too swiftly. Slowly, he raised his hand to the edge of the letter, and the bird quickly released it. Looking for a way out, the bird flew around the living room until he opened the door once more.

"Who sends a letter via an owl?" he wondered aloud as he tore the seal and read the note. "And what the hell is a Draco Malfoy?" he added when he finished.

"What's that?" Monica inquired, carrying a large basket of clean laundry. She propped the basket up on hip and tucked a few stray curls behind her ear.

Wendell closed the distance between them and held the letter out to her. Depositing the basket on the coffee table, Monica used both hands to hold the letter still after the explanation of the owl delivery. "Our real names are Henry and Jane Granger, we have a daughter who is a witch, and she's searching for us so as to reverse a memory charm she put on us before the war," she summed up, letting the letter fall beside the laundry. "This boy is a nutter."

"He wants us to return to England to reunite with this supposed magical daughter of ours," Wendell replied with a frown.

"But we don't have a daughter," Monica countered. "I spoke to this boy yesterday at the cafe, and he said we had an acquaintance in common. He must think we're someone else. This has to be a mistaken identity kind of thing. Right?"

Wendell shrugged. "Maybe, but if he's sought you out before there could be more to this."

Hermione hadn't seen her mother since that day in the cafe. That had been four days ago. She was becoming desperate for a chance to meet with her again. So she sat at her little table for hours at a time, hoping Monica Wilkins would stop by.

And finally she did.

When she saw the older woman, a smile brightened her face and she waved. Monica reciprocated and moved closer to her table. "Fancy seeing you here," she joked. Hermione laughed, as she had whenever her mother uttered that phrase.

Hermione gestured toward the empty seat, silently asking her to join her. Monica obliged and the two women began talking as if they had known each other forever. They had, Hermione realized, but she was the only one aware of that. She fingered her wand as it lay tucked inside her sleeve. This would have been the opportune moment to reverse the spell, she thought as her mother continued to speak, mentioning occasionally that she wasn't entirely sure why she was telling all this to someone she didn't really know. Hermione laughed at the irony.

"And then this boy comes and sits down at my table, right back there," Monica spoke, pointing to the back of the cafe. "Good looking boy. You can tell he comes from money. His clothes were impeccable, and I've never seen such blonde hair before. It made me wonder if he had it professionally colored that way."

Hermione looked up with large eyes. "Who...who was this boy?" she asked nervously.

"It was some strange name," Monica replied, trying her hardest to remember it exactly. "Draco something. You don't meet a lot of Dracos. What a strange name."

Malfoy, she realized, cursing him in her mind. She would kill him if she ever saw him again. He had no right to interfere; this was her family and she would fix it.

Noticing the perturbed look on Hermione's face, Monica reached out a hand to cover that of the younger girl. "Do you know him?"

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "No, he's a complete stranger to me." Quietly, she excused herself and left.

She was making her way back to her room when Draco spotted her. Her shoulders slumped forward slightly, and her curls were beginning to uncurl from her nervous habit of tucking them repeated behind her ears. She was just as beautiful as the last time he had seen her. Before he realized it, his feet set a jogging pace until he caught up to her.

"What do you want?" she seethed when he blocked her door.

"To talk to you," Draco replied. "To help you. I really want to help you with your parents."

"_You_ want to help a disgusting, useless Mudblood? That's rich." She stepped to her left, key in hand, and attempted to open the door. Instead, Draco covered the lock with his hand and received a jab from the key held tightly in her hand.

"You know I didn't mean that, any of that. I swear, it wasn't even me saying it. I had to be under a curse or something. Please say you believe me." Draco Malfoy was begging. It would have broken any other girl's heart, but Hermione Granger's heart was hardened when it came to the git in front of her. "You're still wearing your rings. There has to be a part of you that still believes in us," he added as a last ditch effort.

Hermione shook her head as she twisted off the rings she wore on her left hand. She held them out to him, but he refused to accept them. "Just go, Draco. It's over. You and I are completely over, and there's nothing you can say or do to change that."

"But I was cursed," he exclaimed, a bit too loudly as other guests turned to stare at them. "Do you really hate me so much that you're unwilling to see that?"

Her brows furrowed as a frown tugged down the corners of her lips. "A lot of Death Eaters claimed to do nefarious deeds because they were under the influence of an Unforgivable, even when they weren't."

There was only one word Hermione could think of to describe Draco at that moment - wilted. He stepped around her and backed away down the hallway. "I thought I wasn't the bad guy anymore," were his departing words.

She inserted the key into the lock and turned the knob. "Yeah, I thought so too," she murmured before stepping in and closing the door behind her. 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"I think your gardens would be a beautiful place for a wedding, Narcissa," Seraphina Greengrass replied as they toured the Malfoy property. Astoria lagged behind, muttered under her breath with each passing suggestion. Following Draco's return from Australia, the two mothers had been in a wedding planning frenzy. He was, after all, now single, and hadn't complained when Narcissa mentioned the reason for Seraphina's visit.

"Astoria, darling, keep up," Seraphina chided as she and Narcissa continued through the gardens. Astoria sighed and picked up her pace. From the corner of her eye, she caught the familiar sight of platinum blonde hair as Draco skulked through the rose bushes and shrubbery. She shot him a sad, pleading smile, and received a knowing nod in return. She slipped away towards him as soon as the older women's backs were turned.

"What's that all about?" Draco inquired when she reached his side.

Astoria smirked. "Our wedding," she replied mirthlessly. She rested a hand on his bicep. "I really am I sorry about you and Hermione. I don't know how our parents did it. Have you spoken to her?"

Draco sighed and sunk down onto a stone bench. Once Astoria joined him, he rehashed his adventures in Australia. He told her the details of meeting Hermione's parents and the run-in with his former wife. His eyes remained trained on the ground below his feet. "I wish I knew how to make things right with Hermione. I thought finding her parents would do the trick, but I think she hates me even more now."

Astoria shook her head. "I don't think that's true," she argued. "She's hurt, just as hurt as you are. I've seen for myself how much you two love one another."

With a sigh, Draco stood up straight as he stared off into the gardens. "I think it's really over," he replied sadly. As he walked away, Astoria could have sworn she heard him mutter "Might as well let this arranged marriage happen." She watched as he walked away; her heart beating quickly inside her chest. Something needed to be done, and quickly. She would never forgive herself or their families if the marriage ever happened.

She needed Blaise.

Blaise Zabini stretched his legs underneath the table, propping them up on the chair across from him as he awaited the arrival of his girlfriend. He chuckled at how preposterous the word girlfriend sounded to him. Astoria Greengrass was no more his girlfriend than he was a hippogriff. Blaise Zabini was merely her cover to keep from having to marry one of his closest friends.

He was greeted by a storm of blonde curls that swayed as she rushed over to his table; his feet thudding to the floor when she pulled out the chair. "We need to get Hermione and Draco back together," she said quickly.

At the same time that she spoke, Blaise said, "You couldn't have picked a less disgusting place to meet?"

"What's wrong with the Leaky Cauldron?" she inquired, pulling her eyebrows together.

"Why do we need to interfere with Malfoy and Granger?" Blaise quipped.

Astoria sighed and straightened her back, the expression on her face one of impatience. "My father felt the need to meddle in their affairs, and by which, broke them up. Draco has no desire to marry me. I don't want to be in a loveless marriage. He and Hermione Granger belong together."

Blaise shot her a smirk that would rival Malfoy's any day. "You could just admit that you like him." He knew he was going out on a limb, but when it came to the opposite sex, Blaise Zabini was infrequently wrong. The young witch guffawed, but didn't refute the claim. Blaise continued. "If Malfoy and Granger are split up now, why not capitalize on a relationship with him? He's single and lonely, and you know he's always up for a good shag. Could lead to something more."

"I will not be his rebound," came Astoria's angry reply. "And I already told you I don't want a loveless marriage."

The Italian leaned forward, his arms crossing on the table in front of him. "You honestly think a bloke like Draco Malfoy is capable of loving someone besides himself? Don't be naive, Astoria. Besides, you're a Slytherin; we get what we want."

If Astoria had paid close enough attention to the dark haired, tan skinned boy across from her, she would have noticed the slight twitch in his right eye as he spoke. The twitch, known to only a few former housemates, was a sign of vulnerability in the usually confident man.

Astoria considered his words briefly before brushing them off as rude and selfish. In the months since the arrangement had become public knowledge, she had grown to care for Draco. It was hard not to. His family life was horrible, he'd been through terrible ordeals at a young age, and he was barred from being with the only person he had ever truly loved. A small part of Astoria began to wish she could have been that person.

Draco's muttered words played back in her mind. _Might as well let this arranged marriage happen_. And who was she to defy anyone's wishes?

"You know what, Blaise, I think you make a good point," she decided, a sly smile spreading on her ruby red lips. "I am a Slytherin, and I should have things my way."

A dubious eyebrow rose. "What happened to putting Draco and the Mrs. back together?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair until the front legs lifted off the floor.

Astoria leaned forward as if to share a secret with her friend. "She's a mudblood, after all. She doesn't deserve a wizard like Draco Malfoy."

The chair returned to the ground as Blaise smirked. "That's the Slytherin I know and love." 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The Daily Prophet was rich with information on the planning details of the Greengrass/Malfoy wedding. Each day, the newspaper published the latest updates - the bride's dress, the members of the wedding party, decorations for the reception. Today, it was a full length feature on the cake.

Hermione was ready to pitch the rag into the roaring fire. She hadn't wanted to believe that what Draco had told her was true, but perhaps he really had been seeing Astoria behind her back. She had only truly been in Astoria's company once, and that one time was enough to raise red flags in Hermione's mind. There was an underlying sense of longing in the way the blonde would stare at Draco. It didn't take a genius to see that Astoria had a crush on her former housemate.

"Stupid purebloods," she muttered, tossing the newspaper to the floor.

Footsteps approached. "Now, what exactly is wrong with purebloods?" Fred inquired as he took a seat beside her on the sofa. Hermione turned to look at him; his face was pale, dark circles ringed his eyes, and he had the most severe case of bed head she'd ever seen on anyone who wasn't Harry.

"Not sleeping well?" she asked, deep concern for her friend coloring her voice. She knew what he had endured during the war. The wall that collapsed courtesy of a Death Eater hex had nearly killed him. It wouldn't surprise her if he were experiencing the kind of nightmares she had.

Fred merely shrugged in response and yawned. "I'll be fine. Let's talk about you instead," he replied, brushing off her concern. She shot him a skeptical look. "It'll help take my mind off things. Like nearly dying," he added.

There was no comeback, so instead she began to speak. "He thinks he was Imperio'd and that's why he said all those things to me and signed the papers. I thought maybe that was the truth. And now he's going to marry her. He's going to marry that...that...stupid girl just like his mother wants him to."

Fred sighed and shifted so he could get a better look at her. Tears were beginning to form in her dark brown eyes, and he watched as she stubbornly rubbed them away. "You still love him, don't you?" he asked softly. There was an inner battle within Hermione. First, she shrugged her shoulders, but relented and nodded her head. "You're just not ready to forgive him for what happened. We've all been through a lot in the last year. I think it was admirable that you were able to forgive him for everything he'd done to you before. There's no shame in not being so quick to do it this time."

Hermione sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "So, what do I do?"

"Take your time. Get your feelings in order," Fred suggested. "Once you've done that, talk to him. Whether what you have to say is good or bad, talk to him."

For the first time in a long while, Hermione smiled. "When did you get so smart, Fred Weasley?" she teased.

The redhead leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. "I've always been brilliant," he replied. "You've just always been too distracted by my good looks to notice."

"Still the funny one in the family," Hermione quipped.

He smiled. "Naturally." The couch shifted beside him as Hermione stood. He cracked open one eye and looked at her. "Hey, what happened with your folks? Should we reserve seats for them at the wedding?"

She sunk back down beside him. "First, there will be no wedding," she replied with a huff. "And as for my parents, well, they seemed less than thrilled when I reversed the memory charm. They said I shouldn't have done it even though I was trying to protect them. For now they're staying in Australia until they can forgive me, I guess."

Fred leaned over and kissed her cheek. "They'll come around. Your parents, Malfoy, all of them. They'll come around because you deserve to be happy." Blaise strolled casually through Malfoy Manor before making his way to Draco's room. The foyer was packed with tables and boxes of decorations for his upcoming nuptials. He nudged with his toe at a box of tablecloths that blocked the stairs before proceeding upstairs. His feet carried him to the right and down three doors until he stood outside of Draco's room. He didn't bother with knocking, but barged in as if he owned the place.

"What?" Draco muttered, not looking up from the book he was reading.

"Why are you marrying Astoria?" he demanded, standing at the foot of Draco's bed.

The book lowered and Draco smirked at his friend. "Because my Mummy said I have to," he replied in a facetiously sweet voice. "What do you care anyway?"

Blaise's hands curled into fists at his side, but he continued to breathe deeply to keep his rising temper in check. "Because I do," was the only answer he gave.

Draco closed his book and set it beside him before sitting up. "Look, mate, I understand you two are seeing each other, but these families will not be deterred," he replied as sympathetically as he could. "You know what they did to Hermione and me. I highly doubt they would hesitate to do the same to you.

"I'm sorry, Blaise, but I'm marrying her whether any of us wants me to or not." And he genuinely was sorry. Whether he was aware of just how big a sham his relationship with Astoria was, he had managed to work out that Blaise did in fact have feelings for his future wife.

Blaise nodded solemnly, running a hand over his well-coiffed hair. "What if...what if Hermione forgave you?" he wondered, perching on the edge of the bed. His eyes focused on the window as a plan formulated in his mind.

Draco stared down at the book as if it were a symbol of Hermione. "That's not going to happen," he mumbled. "She said so herself right before she begged me to leave her alone. But I don't want to leave her alone. I want her back, but the only way to do that is to prove that I didn't willingly sign those papers or say the things I said."

"And you have no idea how to do that," Blaise finished. Draco nodded as he studied the binding of the book, for lack of a better thing to do. "What about slipping some Veritaserum into their drinks?"

But Draco vetoed that option. "The wedding is in three days, and her father is away on business until then."

A short laugh came from Blaise as she said, "You know who would know exactly what to do right now? Hermione Granger." Draco scowled at the irony of the statement, but a part of him wished he could ask her for help.

"You're a prat," the blonde grumbled, moving off the bed to replace the book on the nearest shelf.

Blaise's smile grew. "Yeah, but I'm a prat with a plan. 


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Alistair Greengrass smiled ruefully as he watched the guests file into their seats. The orchestra played soft melodies as they tuned their instruments in time for the grand show that would take place just as soon as his daughter finished dressing. Things were finally going the way he had planned them.

"What are you doing here?" he inquired angrily upon seeing Blaise Zabini enter the foyer.

Blaise grinned, holding up a flask. "Draco and I go way back," he explained. He extended the flask to Mr. Greengrass who impatiently declined. "Oh, go on, have a sip to take the edge off those nerves."

The two men stood close together so the elder gentleman wouldn't have to raise his voice. "I am not nervous. This is the best damned bloody day of my life. The only thing that would make it better would be you leaving, Mr. Zabini. Now get that bloody flask out of my face and leave."

Taking a step back, Blaise shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, sir, just always took you for a single malt man," he replied nonchalantly as he took another step back. He felt the older man's eyes on him as he removed the cap and took a swig. He held it out to Mr. Greengrass who took it from his hand. A smile tugged up the right corner of his lip as the father of the bride took a liberal drink before handing it back.

Draco appeared at that moment, casually strolling over to the two men. He glanced first at Blaise, who gave him a little head nod, before turning his attentions to Mr. Greengrass.

"Is Astoria ready yet?" he asked sourly, tapping his patent leather dress shoe against the marble floor. "I'd really like to get this done and over with."

Alistair glowered. "She should be down in a few minutes," he replied. "I think it best if you wait outside. It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

They watched the blonde roll his eyes and scowl before walking out the front door. Blaise turned back just as Astoria descended the staircase, her white train trailing behind her. She was beautiful in her wedding robes with flowers in her hair. He was captivated by the blonde beauty who smiled at him briefly before taking her father's arm. He hung back as they made their way out to the gardens to begin the ceremony.

Seconds later, Blaise followed, scanning the crowd for a familiar head of brown curls. She wasn't there. He took a seat at the end of the last row to keep an eye out for any late coming guests. Astoria and Alistair made their way up the aisle towards Draco, who, along with his finest dress robes, wore a deep frown on his pointed face.

The minister began the opening lines of the ceremony as a frazzled-looking Hermione Granger sneaked up behind Blaise.

"Sorry I'm late," she whispered when he turned around.

"You brought the Minister of Magic with you?" he asked incredulously when he spotted Kingsley Shacklebolt at her side. "To a wedding with possible former Death Eaters in attendance?"

Hermione huffed. "You said you had important information regarding the Greengrasses. I thought some back up might be required."

Blaise smiled at her just as the minister asked if anyone objected to this union. He stood up quickly. "I do." 

One hundred heads turned in his direction as people began to whisper amongst themselves. He winked quickly at Hermione before making his way up the aisle.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mr. Greengrass asked in an outrage.

"Sir, is it true you forced Draco Malfoy to divorce Hermione Granger?" he asked innocently.

"Yes."

Several gasps arose when he answered.

"Did you use an Unforgivable to do it?" Draco asked, feeling shocked by his response, but relief that the truth was finally out.

"Yes."

Kingsley proceeded forward with Hermione in tow. "Which curse was it, Mr. Greengrass?" he inquired.

"Imperius."

The Minister of Magic smiled at Hermione who suddenly looked terrified. "That's all the information we need right now. I'll be taking Alistair Greengrass into custody. Mrs. Greengrass, Mrs. Malfoy, please wait for my owl for further questioning."

Kingsley led the Greengrass patriarch away. Draco dropped Astoria's hands and descended the steps from the altar. His hands shook with nerves as he approached Hermione. "Wait," he shouted, causing Kingsley to stop in his tracks.

"You really were cursed," she whispered when he was close enough to hear. "But how could the Ministry not know? All those things you said-"

"I didn't mean any of them," he told her. "I still...I love you, Hermione."

"But the curse?" Shacklebolt wondered. "They're traceable. Any use of an Unforgivable would have alerted the Aurors."

The twinge of happiness Draco felt at that moment melted away as he thought about the Minister's question. "It must be my father's study. When the Dark Lord resided here, charms were put up to block the tracking." Several sets of eyes flashed to Narcissa, who, with a nod of her head, confirmed it.

Hermione sniffled softly, producing a watery smile. "What do we do now?" she wondered, ever the voice of reason.

Draco leaned in towards her lips. His breath ghosted over them as he whispered, "Marry me."

Hermione closed the short distance between their mouths, indulging in the feel of his lips once more. "Why were you going to marry Astoria?" she asked, breathing heavily.

His face took on an expression of sadness and remorse. "You said we were over for good. I thought that if I couldn't have you anymore, there was no point in caring about the arranged marriage. I thought I'd just do it to appease the families. But I still want you."

She leaned back and sighed. "I still love you, too," she admitted hesitantly. Draco gave her a hopeful look that would make her forget the "but" that was soon coming. "What about your parents? They still want you to marry Astoria."

"Forget them," he told her, holding firmly onto her hands. "I'm done with them telling me what to do and who to be with. I'm with you. Now and forever. The minister was supposed to perform a bonding ceremony on Astoria and me. We can have him do that for us instead, and then they'll never be able to split us up again."

She glanced over his shoulder, first to the right to see Mrs. Malfoy glaring daggers at the young couple, and then to the left where Astoria stood sobbing softly. "Draco, we can't. It wouldn't be right," she decided resignedly.

"We were never supposed to break up in the first place," he reasoned. "Don't you want to be with me?"

She glanced back to Astoria with sympathetic eyes. The bride held out her bouquet; a silent push to marry the man both women loved. "I do." Hermione accepted them, whispering a "thank you" before Draco led her to the altar. Blaise wrapped a comforting arm around Astoria's shoulders before leading her away. The minister joined their right hands to begin the bonding ceremony.

"But we had a deal," Alistair Greengrass shouted as the minister raised his wand above the couple's hands. Draco and Hermione both turned their heads to see Shacklebolt place a Silencing charm on the man. They smiled appreciatively at the Minister of Magic before turning back to their ceremony.

Gold and silver strands were emitted from the wand tip, binding the couple for life. "The rings please," the minister requested as Theodore Nott handed over the rings that were meant for Draco and Astoria's bonding.

"Wait," Hermione said. She slipped her free left hand into the pocket of her white linen pants, and pulled out wedding rings. "I hadn't taken them off until today," she admitted quietly. She handed them to Draco as he produced his own ring.

"As a symbol of your love and commitment, please place the ring on Hermione's finger," the minister instructed. Draco did as he was told, and then it was Hermione's turn. The wisps began to recede back into the minister's wand as the ritual was completed. "You may now kiss your bride."

And Draco did. 


	18. Epilogue

Epilogue

"Hermione, do this! Hermione, don't forget about the centerpieces! Hermione, ask Draco to walk me down the aisle!" The eight and a half month pregnant witch ranted as she paced the length of the kitchen. "Oh, and her newest request - Hermione, please don't go into labor during my wedding. Can you believe such a thing?"

From behind her, Draco sat at the kitchen table chuckling. "Tell me again why we're going to this wedding, let alone helping to plan it."

She turned around, bracing herself against the counter top. The look on her face told him she was trying to formulate a response, but all that came out was, "I don't bloody know," with a hint of depression in her voice. He rose from his seat and moved near her. Placing a kiss on her forehead, his hands moved to caress her swollen stomach. "Let's skip it," he murmured, brushing her lips with his own. "We'll lay in bed all day and think up baby names for this little guy."

"Girl," Hermione corrected him, smiling as their lips met once more.

"Boy," he argued.

Hermione pushed past him. "Go get dressed. Your robes are hanging on the closet door," she told him. "And it's going to be a girl." With that, she left, making her way to the bathroom to ready herself for the wedding. A small twinge of pain hit her side, but she brushed it off as she showered and fixed her hair. Another pain came as she applied a light layer of makeup and slipped into the dress robes Astoria had ordered for her.

Half an hour later, the couple was ready and out the door. Draco held her close as they Apparated to the small church where the wedding was to be held. Guests were already assembling; the bride's side on the right, the groom's on the left. Hermione was quickly ushered into the bride's dressing room, leaving Draco to seek out Blaise.

"Firewhiskey?" Blaise offered, holding up a half-full bottle of Odgen's finest. Draco smiled and accepted, taking a small swig of the burning liquid.

"A little liquid courage to go through with this today?" the blonde asked, handing the liquor back to his friend.

Blaise shrugged. "Nah, I think your wife could use this more than us, what with all that Toria's put her through. Thanks, by the way, for all the help you two have given her, and for walking her down the aisle."

Draco nodded in response to his friend's gratitude. "I think Hermione feels bad about the last year's events."

"She has nothing to feel bad about," Blaise replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Things have worked out for the best. You and Hermione belong together, and you've got a baby on the way. And I get to marry Astoria Greengrass. How many guys would kill to be us right now?"

Before he could reply, Hermione poked her head out the door. "She's ready. Blaise, go, you can't see her before the ceremony begins."

The two friends departed with a handshake before Draco closed the distance between himself and his wife. "Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, kissing her sweetly.

Hermione shook her head, tucking back a piece of his fine, blonde hair. "Just don't trip and disgrace our family," she joked. Theodore Nott came up behind them to assist Hermione to her seat. A minute later Astoria stepped out of the dressing room. A blush colored her cheeks when as Draco offered her his arm.

"You look beautiful," she complimented, putting her veil in place. "Ready to do this?"

Astoria nodded, toying with the ribbon around her bouquet. "Wait, before we go, I just want to say I'm glad you and Hermione got together. When my parents told me I had to marry you, I'll admit I was a little excited at the thought. And then you told me about you and Hermione, and I could tell how much you loved her. I truly was sorry for my father's actions, but then I had a second chance with you. And even though I knew you would never feel for me the way you feel for her, I thought maybe you could. That one day you would love me the way you and Hermione love each other, or the way Blaise and I love each now. I never thought I would appreciate the way they crashed our wedding, but I do now."

Draco squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I hope you and Blaise will have as happy a marriage as Hermione and I have. I wish I could have loved you like I do her. It probably would have made things a hell of a lot easier."

The music began, and the pair took it as their cue to begin the procession. The guests rose when they appeared, all eyes glued to Astoria. Draco's were glued to Hermione. Once he placed Astoria's hand in Blaise's he took a seat beside his wife. The ceremony was just started when Hermione gasped.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.

Hermione took several deep breaths, her hand firmly resting on her stomach. "Fine, fine," she replied before gasping again. "I think my water broke."

Draco was on his feet within seconds, helping her stand. The vows were halted as the bride and groom turned to look at the Malfoys.

"What's going on?" Blaise asked.

"I think the baby's coming," Draco replied, panic in his voice. They moved as quickly up the aisle as Hermione's size and discomfort would allow. "There's a floo in the dressing room," Hermione informed him, and Draco led her to it before transporting them to St. Mungo's. As soon as they appeared in the hospital's waiting room, they were ushered into the first available delivery room.

Hermione panted as the contractions came closer and closer together. Draco sat by her side, holding her hand and pushing back sweaty curls. "I can't do this," Hermione murmured as another pain hit.

"Yes, you can," he assured her. "You are Hermione Malfoy. You've got your Gryffindor courage and strength. You can do this, and I'll be by your side the whole time."

A mediwitch came into the room to examine Hermione, and declared it time to begin pushing. She bared down, squeezing her husband's hand until the bones cracked. Her breathing was labored as beads of sweat trickled down her face. A few pushes later, the Malfoys were treated to the first cries of their child.

"It's a girl," the mediwitch proudly declared.

"I told you," Hermione said breathlessly, as she lay back against the pillows.

Draco smiled and kissed her forehead. "And you're always right," he told her. The baby was place in Hermione's arms, swaddled in a soft pink blanket. Small tufts of dark blonde hair were matted to their daughter's head. He hoped the blue eyes would one day transform into her mother's deep, chocolate brown. "Merlin, she's beautiful."

Hermione made a small noise in agreement as she stared at the newborn. "We need a name."

"Anastasia," Draco suggested, stroking his daughter's cheek with his thumb.

Hermione nodded when the baby cooed. "That doesn't sound like a constellation," she joked. "Anastasia Hope."

"I like it," Draco replied. His eyes remained on Anastasia as she slept peacefully in her mother's arms. It wasn't until Hermione sighed that he pulled his attentions away. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she replied, sighing again. From the corner of her eye she noticed the skeptical, uncertain look on her husband's face. "It's just, I always thought my parents would be here for this. It's been so long since I've seen them or heard from them, despite the numbers of letter I've sent them. I just miss them."

"I'm sorry, love," he murmured before a smile hitched up the corners of his lips. "Don't be mad at me, but I have a little surprise for you."

He stood, ignoring the concerned look on Hermione's face, and exited the room. She stared at the door, waiting for his return. When the door opened again, her eyes widened in shock. "Mum? Dad?"

"Hi sweetheart," Jane Granger greeted her. Her parents stood on either side of the bed admiring the baby in their daughter's arms. "We're sorry we've been away so long."

"We were angry for a long while," Henry told her. "Not so much with you, but with the entire situation. No parent wants to hear that their child was on the run from criminals or risked her life to fight a war. I know you were just trying to protect us."

Hermione wiped away the tears that flowed down her cheeks. "I'm just glad your here now," she told them. "Do you want to hold your granddaughter?" Before she could finish asking, Jane had Anastasia in her arms. Draco moved away from the door and took his previous seat beside her bed. "You did this for me?"

"I love you," he said in response.

"But how?"

Draco turned to look at her parents behind him as they passed his child between them. "I have my ways," he said cryptically. Hermione's eyebrow rose questioningly. "I might have gone to their house in Australia and told them they were being stupid. I might have also told them that, despite their issues with you, they would forever regret missing out on seeing their first born grandchild."

Hermione laughed, drawing him in for a kiss. "You're a really good husband," she murmured against his lips.

"I know," he said with a smile. "Speaking of husbands, Blaise owled. The ceremony ended. They're married. Astoria is only slightly miffed that you upstaged her yet again at her own wedding. We gave them a really great, very expensive gift though, so she'll get over it."

"Thank you for this, Draco," Hermione said. "I can think of nothing else that could make this day more perfect."

"I'm glad. I'll owl Harry and the Weasleys, let them know Ana is here," Draco replied, standing up. His lips brushed hers once more. "Thank you," he added.

Smiling, Hermione said, "You're welcome," knowing exactly what it was he was thankful for - a real family. 


End file.
